I Am
by UConnHusky90
Summary: Dalton Academy: Nick Duval receives a letter he thinks is from his best friend Jeff—then gets an urgent call to come home before he can even open it. When Nick finally reads the letter, he learns an unexpected and shocking truth. Blaine A. arrives in Chapter 2. Niff. Rated T for language, homophobic slurs and depictions of bullying/violence.
1. Chapter 1: Letter To A Friend

_**I AM**_

**Chapter One - "Letter To A Friend"**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of _Glee_, its characters, settings or plot; these belong to Ryan Murphy, Fox Broadcasting, _et al. _The Bon Jovi songs mentioned herein belong to Jon Bon Jovi, _et al._

* * *

Nick Duval was having a pretty good day.

First of all, it was Friday. After the grueling week he'd had (_four tests _and_ a friggin' paper!) _this Dalton Academy eighth-grader was _so_ looking forward to just vegging out in his room and watching _Doctor Who _DVDs the whole weekend. _Just me and the TV. Sounds like a plan._

Second, Mr. Harman had handed back the Science tests today. He'd gotten a ninety-eight_―_where poor Buzz Walsh had only gotten a ninety-six_―_putting Nick one up on his Science-class rival. _Sweet!_

Third, it was fifth period. Lunch.

On his way to the dining hall, Nick decided to detour across the quad to the admin building. Walking across the polished marble floor, he passed under the wrought-iron chandelier in the opulent main entrance hall on his way to the rather less impressive student mailroom.

Cool. He'd actually gotten something. Three envelopes. After pulling on his red ski hat, he stepped back outside into the bitter November afternoon and started tearing open the largest.

It was from Dalton. Another reminder to the boarding students that they had until November 14th to inform the Residential Life Office whether or not they would be remaining on campus for the upcoming Thanksgiving break. _Thanks__―__already did, guys. BTW, I'__m not. _The second was an application for a Visa card. _Jeez, I'm only thirteen; a little early, dontcha think?_

The third was a cream-colored envelope with a computer-printed address label:

_Nick Duval  
c/o Dalton Academy  
Poe Residence Hall  
Edgerstoune Rd  
Westerville OH 43081  
_

Hmm. It wasn't from Mom or Dad; they would've addressed it by hand. He turned it over; the return address was embossed on the back flap:

_Sterling  
27 Benjamin Trail  
Fox Chapel PA 15238_

_Jeff?_

Jeff Sterling and Nick Duval had been best friends since kindergarten. While Nick was at boarding school here in Ohio, Jeff was back home in Pennsylvania attending the local junior high. Next year, he said, his parents planned on sending him to private school. (Or military school, his father jokingly threatened, if Jeff didn't lose the attitude.) The two boys had often talked about Jeff applying to Dalton and how _awesome_ it would be for him to go here, too. In spite of the dorky uniforms.

Nick sat down on a marble bench, one of dozens scattered all over campus. A different Latin word was carved into the seat of each one. This particular bench was _"Fraternitas"_: brotherhood.

He stared at the envelope. This was too weird_. _He and Jeff texted and e-mailed all the time. Why would Jeff _write _and mail a _letter? _Shrugging, he eased his thumb under the flap to tear―

"Hey, _Duval!" _

Startled, Nick looked up to see fellow middle-schoolers Cameron James, Andy Stewart and Seth Wheaton walking toward him, their winter coats open and flapping in the wind.

"S'up, Brainiac," Cameron laughed as he playfully jerked Nick's wool cap down over his face.

Nick pushed the hat up out of his eyes, blowing fuzz off his lips as he smirked, "James, you are _such_ a waste of flesh."

"Come on, man, let's hit the caf," Andy said as he dragged Nick to his feet. "Unless you _wanna_ freeze your nuts off out here, sittin' on ol' _Fraternitas_."

"Dude, you shoulda seen it," a grinning Seth was telling Cam as they resumed walking. "I thought Walsh was gonna _freak_ when Old Man Harman announced that our boy Nicky here got that ninety-eight!" he crowed.

Impressed, Cam whistled. "Nick the _Man!" _He held his fist out to Nick.

Nick bumped it, basking in the attention; it was funny how their friends were more invested in the great "Duval-Walsh rivalry" than Nick and Buzz themselves.

As they entered the noisy dining hall, Seth mentioned that Chuck Vollmer was going to tomorrow's Ohio State away game in Evanston. Which sparked a lively debate on how badly the Buckeyes were going to slaughter the Wildcats. Laughing, Nick joined in; as he spouted stats on the Ohio State defense_, _he opened his backpack and slid the envelope inside his copy of _Great Expectations_. He'd definitely read it after lunch. During Math.

_Catch ya then, Jeff..._

* * *

After school was finally over, Nick dragged his tired ass back to his room. His hat came off with a crackle of static electricity and he winced as tiny shocks pinpricked his scalp. It was then jammed in the pocket of his coat, which went up on the wall hook. He blew out a loud and disgusted deep breath. The afternoon had taken an interesting turn; his Math teacher had ambushed the class with a pop quiz. _Pop quiz? More like a pop_ test! _Totally not cool on a Friday..._

Nick just dropped his backpack down by the door. _T.G.I.F.!_ his brain cheered as he shucked off his blazer and threw it over the back of his desk chair. It looked like his roommate had already cleared out for the weekend; now that his parents had separated, Scott went home to Cincinnati every Friday to see his mom.

As Nick unknotted his red-and-navy-striped tie, there was a little niggling thought in the back of his mind. Like he'd forgotten something. "I hate when this happens," he mumbled to himself, opening his laptop and double-checking his assignment schedule. _C'mon,_ _Duval, _please_ tell me you didn't forget―_

That was when he noticed his Droid sitting in its dock on the desk―with the little green light flashing. Crap. He hadn't even realized he'd left it behind this morning.

After swiping the screen to unlock it, he saw: _Missed calls: 5 - Voice messages: 3 _

All the calls were from the same number: _Home_

Nick scrolled through his contacts and hit the "Home" icon. His mother answered after the first ring. "Nick?"

"Yeah, Mom, hi. Sorry, I forgot my phone in my room and I just came in and―"

"Honey, did you _listen_ to the messages I left?" She sounded kind of serious; normally, she would have started off asking how his day had gone and if he was eating okay and other inane Mom-questions.

_Something's wrong. _Nick shook his head even though she couldn't see him. "No. Why?"

"You need to come home, hon. Tonight. I've already spoken to the headmaster. You're booked on a flight to Pittsburgh and―"

"Whoa, Mom, slow down! What's wrong?" Nick interrupted. His mother's tone had made him start thinking about his father's high blood pressure and his stomach began to clench. "Is...Dad okay?"

"Don't worry, hon. Dad's fine," she assured him, her voice softening. "Now, the flight leaves at five-ten, so you have to hurry." (_Uh, ya think? _Nick's brain quipped as he glanced at the time: 3:19pm.) "You don't need to pack. Mr. Donaldson said he'll have one of the teachers drive you to the airport, so―"

_Screw Mr. Donaldson! _"Mom," Nick said, his voice rising in pitch as he repeated, "what's _wrong?"_

There was a pause, then: "Honey, please don't worry because he's going to be all right, but...Jeff's been hurt."

_WHAT—?! _"How bad?"

"He'll probably have to stay in the hospital overnight, but he _is _okay. Don't worry."

_Just answer me! _"Stop saying 'don't worry'! What happened?" Nick nervously ran his free hand through his mop of dark hair.

Another pause. "I think he wants to tell you himself."

_What the hell? _"Are you kidding me?" When had he beamed into a bad _Star Trek_ episode? Like those times the captain was off the bridge when something happened; he'd call for a report―only to have some idiot respond with something like _"Duh...you need to come and see this for yourself, sir"_ instead. If he'd been Kirk or Picard or Sisko, he've gone and seen―then kicked the ass of whoever hadn't given him a straight answer. _You paying attention, Mom?_

"Uh, Nick, hold on...Mr. Donaldson just texted me. Mr. Sawyer is waiting for you outside your dorm. I'm sure the traffic in Columbus'll be bad this time of day, so you better get going. See you soon. Love you."

"Okay, Mom." After hanging up, Nick reached for his tie out of habit and stuffed it in his pocket along with his phone. He unzipped his backpack (again, getting that_ weird_ feeling he was forgetting something―but there was no time to worry about that now), threw in his iPod, zipped it closed and slung it over his shoulder.

Throwing his blazer and overcoat over one arm, he was out the door and slamming it behind him.

* * *

As the car passed through Dalton's main gate and onto the road to Westerville, a silent Nick sat in the back seat nervously jiggling his leg. Mr. Sawyer had given up trying to talk to him after three attempts at conversation went unanswered.

Nick's mind was whirling. _Great day to forget your phone, you idiot!__ Jeff's "been hurt" she said. Hurt how? And how bad? Bad enough that I'm flying home. Bad enough that he's in the friggin' hospital. But she said he's gonna be okay. And he wants to tell me what happened _himself. _What the hell is _that_ all about? Unless..._

_Did he try to...hurt himself...? _A chill ran down Nick's spine and prickled through his whole body.

Jeff had come out during the summer. First to Nick. Then to his family―who, thank God, had been totally accepting and supportive. He'd told their friends two months ago, on the first day of school. With mixed results. From what Nick had been told, the taunts and cold shoulders that started when the word had spread were minor and manageable. Besides, Jeff Sterling didn't take no shit off _nobody_; he wasn't gonna let a few random assholes get him down.

_Had something changed?_

With a lump rising in his throat, Nick called Jeff's cell. He could've had it with him, even in the hospital, right? It went right to voicemail. He tried again. Same thing.

He started texting. Sent ten, each one a little more insistent than the one before, starting with _Sup dude? _and ending with _Pick up ur fucking fone RITE NOW u jerk! _

No reply. Shit.

Frustrated, Nick jammed his cell into his blazer pocket. He pulled out his tie, slipped it around his neck and concentrated on tying it properly―while, at the same time, trying not to seriously freak out. Looking out the car window, he saw signs for the interstate and the airport.

After finally reaching Port Columbus―_freakin' __traffic!__―_Nick was hustled through the airport by his teacher. They were escorted through security in record time and Nick nervously paced during the short wait at the gate. He tried Jeff's phone again. Still no answer. Then an airline representative took charge of him and directed the boy to board the plane ahead of the other passengers.

A flight attendant showed him to his seat, fussing over him as she took his coat and made sure he was properly buckled in. Nick tried to smile, but all this special attention was really getting on his nerves. All he wanted was to get home and find out _WHAT THE FUCK _was going on.

_Chill, Nicky boy, just chill..._

Finally, the plane was taxiing away from the terminal. While Nick wasn't afraid to fly, take-offs didn't exactly thrill him. He checked to make sure no one was watching, then unzipped his backpack and pulled out his iPod. He didn't care about the rules; he needed to relax, to lose himself in some tunes.

After jamming in his ear buds, he dialed up a song from his playlist at random: Bon Jovi's "I Am". Nick smiled. He'd driven Jeff crazy over the summer by playing the _Have A Nice Day _album on constant repeat. Alternating with the classic _Slippery When Wet, _of course.

"How you spend your minutes are what matters  
All tomorrows come from yesterdays  
When you're feelin' broke and bruised and sometimes shattered  
Blow out the candles on the cake like everything's a big mistake"

As the plane began accelerating down the runway, he closed his eyes. His mind began to wander and he remembered...

_...how he and Jeff met when they were five. His daddy's job had gotten way bigger and he was now gonna work in a place called Pittsburgh. So, during the summer time, Nick's family moved from Texas to Pennsylvania. Nick was super excited about seeing _real_ snow for the first time in his life this winter. But also really scared about starting school next month in a new place where he didn't know _anybody_._

_Nick sat on the front porch, trying to stay out of the way as the mover-men carried stuff into the new house. He looked over at the house next door__―__and saw someone there looking back at him. _

_It was a boy: his age...skinny...with a light blond crew-cut. He was crouched down on his own porch, peeking through the railing as he stared at Nick. _

_Nick, who was __really_ really_ shy around strangers, blushed and ran inside._

_When his mommy took Nick to the first day of kindergarten, the same boy__―_whose name was Jeff S._―_was assigned the seat next to him...

"It seems you always wait for life to happen  
And your last buck can't buy a lucky break  
If all we've got is us, then life's worth livin'  
And if you're in, you know I'm in  
I'm ready and I'm willin'  
I am."

_...when they were seven, and Nick was shoved around a lot on the playground because he was smaller than most of the other boys. He was starting to really _hate_ recess._

_Stuart Slater was being a bigger jerk than normal today and he'd just pushed Nick off his swing. Before Nick could do anything, Jeffy came barreling over, screaming, "I got yer back, Nicky!" _

_Then Jeffy knocked Stuart over and pinned him down until Stuart told Nick he was sorry. After recess, _Jeffy_ was the one who got put on the time-out chair. No fair! Nick felt guilty, but Jeffy just hummed to himself and stuck his tongue out at mean old Mrs. Masonis when she wasn't looking..._

"When you think that no one needs you  
Sees you or believes you  
No one's there to understand  
I am.

"I'll be there to be that someone  
When you think that no one is there to hold your hand  
I am."

_...when they were ten and Jeff's father took their Cub Scout troop camping. After they were sure everyone else was asleep, Nick and Jeff snuck off. _

_After hiking along the shore of the lake for about a quarter of a mile, they decided to stop. Sitting Indian-style on a flat-topped boulder, Jeff took out his Swiss Army knife as he directed Nick to sit opposite him. He then pulled out the largest blade and made a small cut in the palm of his own right hand first, then Nick's. __They pressed their bleeding palms together as they clasped hands, Jeff saying all serious-like how they were blood brothers__―__now and forever. _

_Then, Nick spoke a few words in Klingon. After he explained he'd just performed _R'uustai_, the bonding, Jeff just laughed. "Same difference, you big dork!" he smirked as he ruffled Nick's hair..._

"We're just who we are, there's no pretendin'  
It takes a while to learn to live in your own skin  
Say a prayer that we might find our happy endin'  
And if you're in, you know I'm in  
I'm ready and I'm willin'  
I am.

"When you think that no one needs you  
Sees you or believes you  
No one's there to understand  
I am..."

_...when they were thirteen and Nick, after his first year away at Dalton Academy, came home for the summer to find his best friend all quiet and weird. Going__ over to the Sterlings' house, Jeff's mom told him Jeff was up in his room. Opening Jeff's door, __Nick braced himself for the usual tackle-hug and uninterruptible stream of excited chatter. _

_Not this time; Jeff just sat there, said hello and not much else. It got so awkward that Nick, hoping to get a laugh, joked about him _please _not going emo because there was no way Jeff could ever rock dyed-black hair. _

_Jeff didn't even smile. He told Nick he'd be okay, that he had to work his head around something._

_And this went on for days. No jokes. No smart-aleck remarks. No horsing around. This wasn't normal. (Normal Jeff was kind of like Chandler from _Friends___―if_ Chandler had also had a temper and a major 'tude at times.) Before long, he noticed that Jeff was starting to avoid him. _Nick was scared. His seventh-grade health class at Dalton had included lectures on teenage depression, self-harm and suicide. A__nd Jeff was fitting the profiles. _

_Nick finally decided to confront Jeff, cornering him in the Sterlings' pool house. And Jeff—who _never_ had a problem speaking his mind__―__got all red-faced and stuttery. Looking down at the ground, he told Nick that he _really_ didn't want to tell him what was __going on...because he was afraid how Nick would react...and he couldn't stand it if he lost his best friend...'cause they'd never talked about anything like _this _before...so he didn't know if Nick would hate him because..._

_H__e'd started to think that he might be...kinda...gay._

_After about five seconds of silence, the quiet, thoughtful and sensitive Nick reached out__―_and whacked Jeff on the back of the head. "There's nothin' you could ever say that'd make me hate you, you jerk!" With tears welling up in his eyes, Nick went on, saying that it didn't matter to him if Jeff wanted to fuck boys or girls or Klingon targs; _to him, he would always be "just Jeff"__―__his best friend in the multiverse. Then he drew Jeff into a tight hug._

_Jeff's eyes glistened. 'Y-you big dork," he managed to choke out__―__before cracking up when he realized this was the first time he'd ever heard Nick say the word "fuck" out loud. When Jeff told him that, Nick started to laugh as well..._

"This ain't a song for the broken-hearted  
No silent prayer for faith departed."

_Huh?_

Nick's head jolted up after his brain realized he was listening to the percussive intro to "It's My Life". And that he'd been napping for about half an hour. He looked out the window and saw a cluster of lights that was some town in eastern Ohio gleaming in the darkness below.

As Nick stretched his legs, he accidentally knocked over his backpack; he'd left it unzipped and his school books spilled out. _Smooth, you klutz. _

Then he saw it. What he'd forgotten.

The unopened envelope. From Jeff. Sticking out of _Great Expectations_.

Nick slid it free and placed it on his tray table. He just stared at it, chewing on his lower lip. Could it be a...suicide note? _Sorry, best buddy and life-long pal, but life sucks and I've decided to off myself..._

He felt his stomach twist into a knot. So_ not funny, Duval._

No. Not a letter. That wasn't Jeff's style. When he did something, he did it big. And loud. And obnoxious_. _Like how Jeff had told him he'd come out to their friends on the first day of school...

_...the guys had decided to eat lunch outside on the bleachers. Halfway through he'd stood up and turned his back to them. "There's something I want to tell you guys, but y'know I'm not real good with words, so..." After unzipping his hoodie, he spun back around, pulling it wide open to reveal a custom-made graphic tee: _Yo! Listen up, bitches―I'M GAY!_ printed in rainbow-striped sixties-style psychedelic letters._

_Nick had been sitting in his Math class at Dalton when the guys back home started blowing up his phone. Text after text, all saying something like _did u kno jeff's gay?!_ Finally a picture arrived, courtesy of Glen Karlsons, showing__ a smirking Jeff wearing that same shirt while saluting the camera with his middle finger. __Nick had actually facepalmed himself. He'd worried that Jeff had been too crazy, that there'd be some kind of backlash―_

_―and you're _stalling_...just open it._

He ripped open the envelope and pulled out the contents: two folded sheets of cheap ruled paper―like the kind they used in grammar school―with words in school-child cursive written in pencil. _WTF?_

He put on his glasses. It _was_ a letter. Written by Jeff's eight year old sister Jane.

_Nov 1st, 2008_

_Dear Nicky,_

_How are you? I hope school is good. After he visited you Jeffy said that Dalten looks like Hogwarts. That is so cool. Did you know since you let your hair grow long you look like Harry Potter when you wear your glasses and your school jackit? I hope you have an owl so you can get my letter. Ha ha!_

_We all miss you. Specialy Jeffy. Why do you go to school in Ohio? Jeffy says it's because Dalten is alot nicer than his is. I guess he's right because he always is saying his school sucks. (BTW Jeffy says that is __not__ a sware word.)_

_It is Make A Diffrence Week at school. We have to bring in can food and clothes for the home-less. My teacher wants us to write a letter to a person who can make a diffrence in the world. Most of my friends wrote the President to ask him to fix the country so that all kids in the USA have food and a place to live. My BFF Molly is writing to the Pope in Italy and asking him to stop the War because her brother Rick in the Army is in a dangerus place called I-rak._

_I wrote a letter to the President for homework. But I also wrote this one to ask for __your__ help. Please dont tell Jeffy. He woud get mad if he found out. _

He finished the first page, more than a little puzzled. Though Jeff's baby sister had always treated Nick like a second brother, he couldn't figure out how or why Janey thought that he, a thirteen-year-old dork from western Pennsylvania, could help make a "diffrence" in the world?

The second page answered everything.

_Jen and Jill tell Jeffy over and over to call __you__ about what's going on or they will. He looks sad __first, then he shouts at them. He says dont tell Nick anything about this stuff or he will kick their butts. (He didnt say stuff or butts. You can guess what he realy __did__ say I bet.)_

_Jeffy does'nt smile or tell jokes anymore. He is sad all the time and cries when he thinks noone sees. The kids at his school are realy bad to him. You guys are BFF, Nicky. __Please come home__. It woud make a __big__ diffrence if Jeffy had one friend at school who won't punch him because he is gay._

_Your next door little sister,_

_Janey Sterling XOXOXO_

_P.S. I printed the adress sticker for Dalten from Jeffy's computer. Dont tell._

The bottom half of the page contained a child's crayon drawing of a face. A frowning boy with light yellow hair and a tear drop falling from his right eye.

The left eye had an ugly purple circle scribbled around it.

Nick sat there, feeling like someone had just kicked him in the stomach. _Oh, God._..

He'd had no idea. Why hadn't Jeff told him? Why hadn't _any_ of his old friends told him? And, for that matter, where the hell _were _Glen and Keith and Danny during all this? _Or had they joined the mother-fucking assholes that were kicking the shit outta__―__? _

He jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. "Sweetie, are you okay?" The flight attendant was looking down at him with a concerned expression. It wasn't until he heard a faint _tap...tap-tap_ sound that Nick realized tears were spilling down his cheeks and dropping onto the paper in his hands.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Ducking his head, Nick blindly tore open his seat belt with one hand. Gripping the letter in the other, he sprinted for the bathroom. After securing the latch, he half-sat, half-slid down on the floor.

He slammed his fist into the wall. An innocent freakin' _third grader _had had to tell him his best friend was in crisis. He felt sick to his stomach.

After another look at Janey's picture, he _lost _it―

_Oh my God ohmygodOHMYFUCKINGOD! Why didn't I know 'cause I _shoulda_ known something was wrong with my best friend. I talked to him like _all_ the time and the jerk never said anything (except there was some shoving and a couple kids called him "fag" and once someone tripped him in the caf) but _never_ anything about _punching_ or _bruises_ and all his texts were jokey and funny _

_and THEY PUT HIM IN THE HOSPITAL and how bad was he hurt and WHY can't he ever admit he needs help I mean he almost failed Math in the fifth grade before he told me _

_and he knows I joined the Gay-Straight Alliance at Dalton this year (and did I ever ask if him there was one at his school) and did we ever talk about The Trevor Project 'cause I shoulda given him the number 'cause what if he NEEDED the number 'cause he didn't wanna talk to me 'cause he ALWAYS fucking protected _me_ from bullies _

_and what am I doin' off at Hot-Shit Academy while _my best friend's _getting fucking WHALED ON because he _like_-likes guys and what's fucking wrong with that 'cause he never fucking hurt anybody and__―__o__h, crap__―_

He lunged for the toilet as he literally lost his lunch.

After he was all puked out, Nick gradually became aware that someone was knocking on the door. "Are you all right in there?" a deep male voice was calling. After a brief pause, there was another fusillade of knocks, then: "Son, I need you to unlock this door. _Now_."

Nick tried to pull himself together. "Just a minute," he replied, his voice hoarse.

He slowly got to his feet and looked at himself in the tiny mirror over the sink; his tear-stained face was swollen and his hair was sticking out in every direction. After trying to make himself as presentable as possible, he opened the door.

Standing outside was a tall guy who must have been the co-pilot or something; behind him, the worried-looking flight attendant hovered.

"Son, are you okay?" The man stared intently at Nick, then scoped out the tiny lavatory. _Probably thinks I've been cutting or something._ When Nick finally nodded, he said, "Better take your seat, young man. We'll be starting our descent into Pittsburgh in about five minutes."

Hugging himself, Nick trudged back to his seat. He felt like everyone was staring at him.

_Screw you all. Just get me home._

* * *

Standing in the emergency room, Nick remembered how much he hated hospitals. Biting his lip, he just stared at the curtains drawn around the treatment bay the nurse had led him to. Finally, he took a deep breath and stepped inside the wall of fabric.

Jeff was resting, his eyes closed. The hospital bed was adjusted so that he was practically sitting upright.

His left eye was blackened and swollen almost shut. A bandage covered his broken nose. He had a busted lip and angry splashes of purple and red dappling his forehead, cheek and jaw line_―_over top of what looked like the yellow and green splotches of older bruises. His right arm was casted and in a sling. And, though wrapped in gauze, Nick could see the knuckles of both of Jeff's hands were bruised and raw.

Nick felt his eyes burning. _Oh, God_. His breath hitched.

Jeff must've heard; he opened his eyes and murmured, "Nicky..."

"Hey," Nick said in a small voice, quickly brushing any tears away with his fingertips.

Jeff spoke in a low voice, his speech slurred. "Fix yer tie, Dalton boy, or ish ten demerits...'' His swollen lips quirked. "Y' look like shit..."

Nick automatically adjusted his loosened tie. Trying to keep things light, he quipped, "Look who's talking."

"Yeh. G'esh ya know wha' happened. Ish not as bad as it looks," Jeff said thickly, obviously heavily medicated. "You shoulda sheen th' udder guys." The corners of his mouth twitched in a smile.

Nick sat down in the bedside chair and forced a smile. "I'll bet."

"Hafta stay t'night...sumpin 'bout obs'vation. Leas' I gots me a few days offa school...an' some pretty awesome drugs." A hollow chuckle. "Jus' fer bein' a gay punchin' bag."

Nick's stomach twisted. "I-I'm sorry, Jeff. I shoulda been here..."

"Doan be stupit. Thass why I dinnit wan' y' t' know." Jeff raised his head, trying to focus on Nick's face. "I...I let 'em get t' me, Nicky. Punched tha' dickhead Stu Slater fer callin' me a..." His voice cracked. "...'bout a month ago. Thass when they started..."

Nick had talked with Jeff's sisters Jen and Jill in the waiting room. They'd told him everything. How things had started with name-calling and shoving the day after Jeff came out at school. And, when Jeff dared to blast back with some smart-ass insults of his own, how the fuckers had stepped up their game—endless rounds of taunting and vicious locker-slams and the like. Until the short-tempered Jeff cracked and lashed out at the ringleader.

That's when the fists had started flying. Like the bullies, in their twisted reasoning, had all the excuse they needed to _really_ punish Jeff once he'd decked Stuart Slater. To put the "little faggot" in his place. Jeff being Jeff, he'd tried to deal with it on his own, not telling his parents, hiding the bruises with concealer and sunglasses and stuff.

And as for Glen and the rest of their friends, they'd tried to step up. But when harassed and asked if _they_ had turned gay, too, they'd suddenly made themselves scarce...

Jeff laid his head back on the pillow. "Wussen too bad a' firs'. Jus' normal fights. T'day...bunch of 'em ganged up on me...locker room affer gym...shaid I wus look'n a' their junk." He made an amused noise. "They wish..." His eyelids began to droop. "Mm so tired..."

"It's okay. I'm here now." Nick gently gripped Jeff's free hand, trying to avoid his split knuckles.

"Mmm-hmm. Mm glad." Jeff turned his head and looked at Nick with drug-glazed eyes. "Y'know...missed ya, y' big dork..."

"Me, too."

"Mm gonna sleep now..." Jeff shut his eyes. "Doan go 'way..." he mumbled, sounding like a sleepy five-year-old.

Nick sat there, trying to hold it together. He wasn't going to fall apart, not here. Blinking back his tears, he remembered the song on the plane and started to sing in a quavering voice.

"When you think that no one needs you  
Sees you or believes you  
No one's there to understand  
I am."

As he continued, his voice steadied and richened in tone. Jeff made another amused sound and mumbled something Nick couldn't make out. Probably something sarcastic about Bon Jovi; Jeff didn't quite...appreciate the group as much as Nick did.

"I'll be there to be that someone  
When you think that no one is there to hold your hand  
I am.

"And I ain't got no halo hangin' over my head  
I ain't gonna judge you, I'm just here to love you  
I am  
I aaaam..."

Nick kept holding Jeff's hand as the other boy finally drifted off. _I've got your back _now_, buddy. More than you know._

Nick's father, a prominent Dalton alum, had already made several urgent calls to the headmaster and director of admissions there on behalf of the Sterlings. Nick had no idea how, but his dad had pulled every string pullable to get Jeff enrolled there mid-semester.

He shifted in the chair, making himself more comfortable. Tomorrow, he'd get to tell Jeff that, as soon as he was better, he'd be going to Dalton―with its uniforms and curfews and rules and traditions that he was gonna absolutely _hate_.

_Yeah,_ Nick mused_, tomorrow was gonna be a pretty good day._

* * *

Three weeks later, Nick was freezing his 'nads off waiting outside Edgerstoune Hall. It was the Monday after Thanksgiving break. Uniformed boys were pouring out of the dormitory, chattering and laughing on their way to the dining hall for breakfast.

_Jeez, man, come_ on_ already!_

Of course, Jeff was the last one out. He was talking with a sophomore named Wes Montgomery. The tall Asian boy had been assigned to be Jeff's "big brother" during his orientation.

Jeff still had the cast and sling, but most of the bruises had faded from his face. His nose had healed with a barely noticeable bump that he insisted made him look all rugged and sexy. Like a blond Hugh Jackman. Nick had laughed until his sides hurt when he'd first heard _that _delusion.

Seeing Nick waiting, the older boy smiled and moved off―but not before giving Jeff a friendly farewell clap on the back. It almost broke Nick's heart when he saw how Jeff still flinched whenever someone touched him.

_It'll pass. As soon as he gets it in his head that he's safe here._

Dalton Academy was known throughout the Midwest for its high scholastic standing. It also boasted a zero-tolerance harassment policy; there was no discrimination, no bullying, no fighting. Sure, teenage boys being teenage boys, there was a little generic trash talk and some harmless pranks, but nothing racial or homophobic―and certainly_ nothing_ like what Jeff had experienced―would ever occur on this campus. The policy was drilled into the head of every new student the day he arrived.

Nick made a point of looking Jeff up and down, checking that his uniform was perfect. _No need for him to get demerits on his first day. Knowing Jeff, he'll start racking 'em up soon enough._

"You're late," Nick huffed, giving Jeff the hairy eyeball.

Jeff stuck his tongue out. "Sor-_ree! _That Wes guy can really talk."

"You'll _really_ be sorry when there's nothing left but toast. There's, like, _four_ _hundred_ guys ahead of us now thanks to you."

"Forty-five grand a year and I can't get a decent meal on my first day of classes?" Jeff rolled his eyes. "What a rip-off!"

Nick couldn't hold back his smile. "You get used to it. Welcome to Dalton Academy, Mr. Sterling."

Jeff reached inside his blazer and pulled out a pair of authentic _Men In Black_ Ray-Bans. "With all due respect, Mr. Duval, your academy sucks!" he proclaimed as he one-handedly whipped open the sunglasses and put them on.

_This is gonna be interesting, _Nick thought as he slipped on his own Ray-Ban Predators. _Wonder if these are on the dress code? Oh, well.._._as the Doctor would say:_ allons-y_!_ He stepped aside and, with an exaggerated flourish, gestured for Jeff to start walking. "After you, you jerk."

Jeff stuck his nose up in the air as he said, "Why, thank you, you big dork."

The two boys laughed as they set off across the campus.

* * *

_**NEXT UP: Freshman year and the arrival of Blaine Anderson...**_

_**A/N:** This is quite a departure from my first story. (Hope y'all weren't expecting something funny.) I know that some readers will think that this story should be Blaine Anderson's, but I belong to the camp that believes that Blaine's Sadie Hawkins Dance experience was much worse that this..._

_"I Am" is from the Bon Jovi album _Have A Nice Day,_ released in 2005. I know Curt Mega could do an awesome cover of this song. The chapter title "Letter To A Friend" comes from the Bon Jovi song of the same name released as part of the 2004 box set _100,000,000 Bon Jovi Fans Can't Be Wrong.

_Thanks for reading! Feedback is certainly appreciated. Please review._


	2. Chapter 2: Everybody's Broken

_**I AM**_

**Chapter Two - "Everybody's Broken"**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of _Glee_, its characters, settings or plot; these belong to Ryan Murphy, Fox Broadcasting, _et al. _The song "Hot 'N Cold", of course, belongs to Katy Perry.

**Warning:** This chapter contains descriptions of a violent assault.

* * *

Jeff Sterling was having a pretty crappy day.

First, he and Nick were headed back to Dalton Academy_―__hip hip freakin' hooray__―_to start their freshman year. On a Saturday. At seven o'clock in the morning. _Thanks, Dad_._ Jeez-o-man! _And, with all the traffic and road construction, what should've been a five-hour drive to Westerville looked like it was going to take at least _seven._

Second, he'd forgotten to charge his iPod. They were sharing Nick's and he was playing _every_ Bon Jovi song ever recorded. Leaving Jeff no choice but to dangle it out the car window until Nick agreed to pick something else.

Finally, when they'd made it to Dalton and checked in, Jeff and Nick found out their request to room together this year had been denied by the morons in the Residential Life Office._ WTF?_

At least they were both living in Poe Hall this year. Checking the room-assignment list, they saw that Nick was in 404 with Ward Brandt, who was pretty cool. Jeff was across the hall in 405.

With some new kid named Blaine Anderson.

Jeff couldn't help rolling his eyes._ Blaine._ Probably a country-club snob with a trust fund and a snooty accent like Marion Moseby on _The Suite Life__―_not that he ever _really _watched that show.

With a determined gleam in his eye, Jeff marched over to the admin building to arrange a body-swap between Nick and this Blaine. He went right to the dean of students, but Mr. Kirschner wouldn't listen. He just smiled condescendingly at the irate fourteen-year-old and stated that "everything happened for a reason". And that, if Jeff would give it a chance, he and Blaine Anderson would soon be "great friends". _Yeah. Right._

The Dalton Academy 2009 Fall Semester was officially off to a craptastic start.

Jeff was pissed. As he walked back to the dorms, he wished Nick's dad was here to take care of this. Being the big shot alum, all Mr. Duval would have done is snapped his fingers and Old Kirschner would've ruptured himself moving Blaine's stuff personally.

On his way out of the front office, Jeff had snagged a student directory; now he opened it to the A's so he could check out his new roommate._ Whoa._ _Not bad,_ Jeff had to admit when he saw the boy's picture_―_curly dark hair, soulful eyes, bashful smile. _Kinda hot, as a matter of fact. Probably askin' too much that he's good looking _and_ gay, huh?_

Jeff shook his head._ Nuh-uh. You've never had a boyfriend before__—you __d__o _not_ start with your roommate.__ You're askin' for trouble. _He took another look. _Too bad. Trouble's never been this cute before..._

He started reading:_** Anderson,**** Blaine D. Class of 2013. Home: Oakwood, Ohio. Date of Birth: 11/26/93.** _Jeff paused to think,_ Wait. Ninety-_three_? That would make him fifteen, almost sixteen. And he's a _freshman?_ What's up with that?_

_**Sports: lacrosse, soccer.** Guess I'll see him at soccer tryouts Monday. **Personal interests: art, ****boxing**―bullshit, bullshit, bullshit...wait―**m****usic, vocal **_**and**_** instrumental**. Hm. Wonder if he's gonna try out for the Warblers, like Nicky and me?_

When he got back to the dorm, he found Nick hanging out in the lobby with Cameron, Seth and Andy. Jeff greeted his fellow freshmen by shouting: "Whut _up,_ bitches! We is _upper_-schoolers now!" Which started a round of hoots and hollers and high-fiving.

After things settled down, Nick asked, "Any luck?"

Jeff made a face. "Nah, Kirschner sucks." He handed Nick the open directory and pointed. "Here's the intel on my new roomie."

"Jeez, you got a newbie, too, Jeff?" Seth groaned. "Mine hasn't checked in yet."

The guys crowded around to read. At one point, Jeff saw Nick raise an eyebrow and knew his friend had noticed the age thing, too. When they finished, Jeff nudged Nick toward the stairs. Time to meet Blaine. They told the others they'd catch up with them later. "He sounds like a stiff. Good luck," Cameron shouted after them.

The door to 405 was ajar and Jeff pushed it open. It bumped up against a pile of luggage. Inside, sitting dejectedly on one of the two twin beds, was Blaine Anderson.

It was obviously the same boy in the photo, but...different. His face was drawn and unhappy...his eyes dull and downcast...and that sexy bed-head_―__chill, Sterling!__―_had been severely styled with way too much gel._ And_ Jeff had guessed right; the kid was all dressed up for a day at "the club"―Brooks Brothers polo, khakis, boat shoes and no socks. (Making Jeff, in a faded graphic tee and old cargo shorts, feel real ghetto.)

Blaine glanced up at Jeff and Nick, looking like the last place he wanted to be was in this room. Feeling the other boy's discomfort, Jeff took the initiative. "Hey. Looks like we're roommates," he said, extending his hand. "Jeff Sterling."

He stood and shyly took Jeff's hand. "Um...I-I'm Blaine. Anderson."

Nick stepped forward and smiled. "Nick Duval. I'm across the hall."

"Hi." Blaine's reply was barely audible as he shook hands with Nick.

After the introductions, Blaine just stared at the floor. Jeff wondered what the hell was wrong—

From down the hall came the _BANG!_ of someone slamming a door. Then the sound of boys running and shouting.

_―_and Jeff saw Blaine seriously _flinch, _somehow managing to look pale in spite of his dark tan. And that when Nick instinctively reached out to him while asking, "Hey, you okay?" Blaine took a hasty step backward.

_Like he thought Nicky might hurt him...what's his problem? _Then Jeff remembered how _he'd_ acted last year when he'd first come to Dalton, after...

His phone vibrated in his pocket; Jeff pulled it out and read the text.

_Dad (Sat. 5:34pm): Dinner at McD or BK ok? Pick you guys up in 10 min__. Be waiting outside. _

After sending off a quick reply, Jeff broke the silence. "Just my dad," he volunteered, gesturing with his cell. "So...your parents still around?"

Blaine looked downward as he mumbled, "No. I'm lucky they stopped the car long enough to let me get out."

Trading glances with Nick, Jeff wondered how someone could manage to sound both meek _and_ bitter at the same time. "Oh." _Okaaay..._there's_ a landmine we wanna avoid in the future: Blaine's parents. _

Jeff checked the time. "Dad's comin' to take us to dinner, Nicky, so, um..." he trailed off when Nick eye-gestured meaningfully toward Blaine, mouthing _Ask him_.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Jeff nodded; he felt like a major tool for not thinking of it himself_._ "Hey, Blaine. Wanna come with us? Y'know, last chance for fast food."

"No...thank you..."

"This is my third year here," Nick chimed in. "Trust me, it's gonna be nothing but cold cereal and box lunches 'til Monday, when the full kitchen staff gets here."

"And the pizza places around here that deliver _really_ suck," Jeff added.

Though he looked tempted, Blaine just shook his head. "Um, I-I appreciate the offer, really, but...no thanks. I'll be okay." He sighed. "I better get started unpacking."

Jeff looked at Nick and shrugged. "Whatever. Suit yourself."

Once they were waiting outside (and out of earshot of everyone), they started talking. About how Blaine seemed more than just shy...how the poor guy had reacted to the sound of that door slam and the horseplay afterward...

And most importantly, the way he'd pulled away when Nick tried to touch him.

Thinking back to last year, Jeff thought the signs pointed to bullying. Nick brought up the remark about the parents and wondered if he could be an abused child. Either way, it wasn't a pretty picture. They finished just as Jeff's dad's Mountaineer pulled up to the curb.

While standing in line at McDonald's, Jeff decided to order something to take back with him. Whether Blaine liked it or not, Jeff and Nick were going to be his "Welcome to Dalton" buddies.

* * *

When he got back to his dorm room, Jeff found himself alone. It looked like Blaine had been busy, though; his clothes were neatly hung in his closet, arranged by type and color. It seemed like the guy was sadly addicted to Brooks Brothers. And golf sweaters. And...

_God, no. Please tell me those aren't... _Jeff grimaced when he saw the bow ties in an open drawer.

After leaving the bag of food and a medium-size Coke on Blaine's desk, Jeff glanced up at his half-empty bulletin board. Thumbtacked there was a class schedule...a Dalton contact directory...one small picture...

It was a posed studio portrait of a family—solemn father, mother, teenage brother and a grinning three-year-old Blaine.

The only other personal item was a faded _"Happy 12th Birthday, Big Guy!"_ card pinned next to the photo. A nosy Jeff peeked inside to see it was from someone named "Coop" sending "Blainey boy" best wishes from LA.

_Enough snooping,_ Jeff guiltily thought; he stopped and got down to his own unpacking.

Jeff was indiscriminately shoving a mixture of socks and underwear into the top drawer of his closet's built-in dresser when he heard the door open. Blaine was back. Obviously having visited the caf since he was carrying a box lunch in his hands.

Blaine sniffed the air, then saw the bag sitting on his desk. "You..."

"Welcome to Dalton Academy, Mr. Anderson." Jeff took the box from him and peered inside. _Gross. What's that even _supposed_ to be?_ He dropped it in the trash can, doubly glad he'd brought something back from Mickey D's. "Couldn't letcha eat this crap."

Jeff got a glimpse of that bashful smile he remembered from the directory photo. "Thanks...thanks a lot," Blaine said, opening the bag.

As Blaine dug in, Jeff tried to start a conversation. Between Blaine's shyness _and_ the fact that he flat out refused to talk with his mouth full, it was slow going. He eventually learned Blaine's hometown of Oakwood was near Dayton, that Blaine was a big fan of the Ohio State Buckeyes, and that he favored the Bengals over the Browns.

When the conversation stalled, he came to a decision._ Well, it's time for Jeffy to raise the rainbow flag..._

Jeff slid a poster out of its cardboard tube. He flattened it on his bed picture-side down and applied the sticky tack. Then hung it on the wall and stepped back to admire the view.

It was _Battlestar Galactica's_ Jamie Bamber. All wet and tousled. And wearing nothing but the towel he was holding in front of his crotch.

Nick had given Jeff the poster for his birthday. After he'd noticed that, whenever they watched his _Galactica _DVDs, Jeff seemed to stare holes in the screen whenever Bamber's character "Apollo" was on. Especially one episode, where an otherwise naked Apollo almost dropped his towel shaking hands with some reporter-type played by the Xena Warrior Princess chick.

Jeff folded his arms and waited for a response.

Blaine had just taken a bite of his second cheeseburger when he looked over at Jeff—then stopped chewing when he noticed the poster. He moved to stand alongside Jeff, his eyes focused on Bamber's ripped physique. "Uh," he swallowed, "that's..."

_Were you gonna finish that sentence with "hot as hell," Blainey boy? _"Dude's got a sick body, huh? Oh, by the way, did I forget to mention I'm gay?"

"Um..." Blaine slowly nodded; he looked like he was trying to muster up the courage to say something.

"Not gonna be a problem, is it?" Jeff smiled, looking the other boy right in the eye.

A flush crept up Blaine's face as he stammered, "N-no, not at all...that's not what I...it's just that..." Then, after a pause, he said in a small voice, "...so'm I..."

_Did I hear that right? _"What?"

Holding Jeff's gaze, Blaine actually spoke up. "So am I. Gay."

_God, Sterling! Worst. Gaydar. Ever._ Going for nonchalant, Jeff simply nodded. "Cool," he said and went back to his unpacking. As Blaine sat down to finish eating, Jeff couldn't help noticing the dazed look on his face. _Poor guy. It's like he's never said that before without someone goin' off on him. _

Jeff was hanging up his uniforms when he heard a polite throat-clear. "Uh...Jeff?"

He turned back to see Blaine giving him an uncertain look. "I was wondering...I know the school _says_ it has a zero-tolerance policy for...at least that what the brochures and stuff say. And th-the headmaster, too, during my interview. But so do other schools and it's just a bunch of talk...so..." He paused, nervously fiddling with the straw from his drink.

"Yeah?" Jeff prompted.

"I-I wanted to ask you...it is true?" He looked like he wanted to believe. But also like he didn't want to get his hopes up.

_Definitely bullied. _"No worries, dude. It's true. _Really."_

And for the first time since they'd met, Jeff saw Blaine sort of relax. He was almost...slouching. _Now if he'd just unbutton that top button _and_ wash the crap out of that adorable curly hair... _

_Watch it, Jeffy. Be good._ "Be right back." He went across the hall to update Nick.

Nick wasn't there; his roommate Ward, busy hooking up his Xbox, told Jeff to check the bathroom.

At the end of the hallway, Jeff pushed open the bathroom door. He was almost knocked down by a sniggering Cam who was running out. "James, you friggin' waste of flesh!" a voice shouted from inside. There, he found Nick—who'd just been towel-snapped on the ass by that dickwad Cameron—getting back to brushing his teeth.

Jeff leaned against the wall, watching Nick's reflection in the mirror. "Hey, guess what I just found out. He's gay."

Nick choked on his toothpaste. "_Cameron? _Eww." He made a face. "I pity the entire gay race."

"No. _Blaine_, you big dork."

Nick froze, his reflection staring at Jeff from the mirror. "No," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Huh?"

_"No,"_ he repeated. "You can _not_ date him."

_I_ _know_ that._ Jeez, give me some credit. _"Who says I wanted to?" But he loved yanking Nick's chain, so Jeff continued: "And, if even I _did,_ what's wrong with that?"

"He's your_ roommate, _you jerk. It'd be, like,_ 'living together' _living together," he emphasized, miming air quotes.

Looking in the mirror, Jeff casually combed his long blond bangs out of his eyes with his fingertips. "Soooo, okay. No boyfriend. How about 'friend-with-benefits'?" he smirked, suggestively waggling his eyebrows.

Wrinkling his nose, Nick said, "You're gross."

Laughing, Jeff made a kissy face and cooed, "Don't worry, Nicky, I still love you best."

Nick just rolled his eyes.

* * *

The first day of classes, the entire student body and faculty assembled in the chapel for the headmaster's opening convocation. Having enrolled mid-semester last year, Jeff had missed all this crazy pomp and circumstance. He sat there in the pew with Nick, watching a procession of banner-carrying boys march down the aisle and wondering how and when they'd fallen into the opening scenes of_ Dead Poets Society._ Blaine was sitting a few rows up with his orientation "big brother", David Thompson, who Jeff had gotten to know last year in Dalton's Dance Workshop.

G. Gerald Donaldson, the headmaster, took the podium and spoke. For thirty-six mind-numbing minutes. Then, after the thankfully brief closing prayer, the Fall Semester officially commenced.

Those early weeks were a blur. The former middle-schoolers began adjusting to high-school life...the accelerated pace...the more demanding teachers...the heavier work load.

And during all this craziness, Jeff watched as Blaine slowly came out of his shell.

The first day, Blaine looked at Dalton like it was Disney World. He was wide-eyed when boys he didn't even know would say hello. Or tried to engage him in conversation during meals. Like it was a totally foreign experience for him.

Then he met Crosby.

Crosby Beane was a Dalton celebrity. A junior, he was the personification of school spirit (and the single most cheerful life form in this galaxy, Nick always joked). When he passed a fellow student, he always grinned and raised his hand for a friendly high-five. No one was immune. Unfortunately, when Crosby passed Blaine in the halls and raised that hand, Blaine would duck his head and veer away. Just like he flinched whenever he received a friendly back slap or shoulder clap.

Despite their talk, Jeff was worried seeing that Blaine _still_ looked like he was waiting for someone to trip him...or shove him around...or hurt him in_ some _way. Jeff didn't press, but he_ really_ wanted to know what had happened to have gotten this kid so beat down.

But gradually things got better. By the end of the first week, Blaine was returning the greetings. By the end of the second, Jeff smiled when he saw him tentatively high-five Crosby for the first time.

Then came the Warbler auditions. Jeff had signed up. As had Nick, Cam, Andy and twenty-five other guys. Including Blaine.

Even though he'd opened up some, Jeff didn't think Blaine was ready to_ really_ put himself out there. Not to the extent it would take to perform. Especially as one of Dalton Academy's self-proclaimed "rock stars".

The tryouts were held after school in the main auditorium. Entering, Jeff saw a yellow "Dalton Warblers" banner standing on the stage beside three rows of empty folding chairs. He and the other auditionees were directed to mount the stage and be seated there.

Thirteen upperclassmen sat in the first row of floor seats. One, a blond-haired, blue-eyed preppy, stood and introduced himself as Ken Stevenson. Jeff had seen him around campus last year; Ken was Dalton's current BMOC—senior, student council president, captain of the rowing and fencing teams._ And,_ it seemed, head council member of the Warblers.

_Head what?_ Then Ken explained how the Warblers had no faculty director—the members instead elected three upperclassmen to serve as a governing council. _Pretty cool._

Ken went on to introduce his fellow council members: "Senior Warblers" Duncan Wood and Wes Montgomery. Catching Wes's eye, Jeff threw a Cub Scout salute to his former orientation "big brother".

Warbler Ken started his spiel. The Warblers were _the_ most prestigious group at Dalton...had been performing for over one hundred years...had won numerous local, regional and national awards...

_Get over yourself, "Warbler" Ken—it's _glee club_. Just wake me when it's time to sing,_ Jeff silently heckled, slouching in his seat. Nick elbowed him in the arm, and he sat up straight. Well, straighter.

Ken went on, telling the auditionees that this was going to be a rebuilding period. Seven Warblers had graduated last year; four more, including himself and Duncan, would be leaving at the end of _this_ academic year. Traditionally the group performed _a cappella_ interpretations of easy listening songs—everything from The Mamas & the Papas to Christopher Cross. He wanted to update their sound by adding a heavy dose of current Top-40s pop to their repertoire.

As the auditions started, Jeff smirked. He couldn't help it, thinking about a choir of uniformed prep-school boys bustin' a move and belting out Beyoncé and Maroon 5 songs.

Organizing the proceedings was a dirty-blond hottie named Shane who Jeff remembered from last year's Spring Concert. He called Nick's name. Nick had brought his guitar and accompanied himself while he sang "Wanted Dead Or Alive" by Bon Jovi. _Of course._ But, questionable song or not, Jeff always loved listening to his friend sing; Nick had a beautiful voice.

Jeff was next. He managed to get through Aerosmith's "I Don't Want To Miss A Thing" without humiliating himself. (When he'd asked Wes a couple of days ago, the older boy had advised him to audition with a ballad. And _Armageddon _was one of Jeff's favorite movies.)

Then it was Blaine's turn. He stood facing the rear of the stage, his back to the microphone stand. He muttered to himself, rolling his neck, trying to loosen up.

The music track started: Katy Perry's "Hot 'N Cold". He still faced away from the audience. Jeff wondered if he'd choked—

Blaine spun on his heel and, with a wide show smile on his face, grabbed the mic stand and started to sing:

"You change your mind  
Like a girl changes clothes  
Yeah, you PMS like a bitch  
I would know."

_Whoa...he's good_. Jeff side-glanced at Nick, who was watching Blaine and looking equally impressed.

"And you over think  
Always speak critically  
I should know  
That you're no good for me-e-e-ee!"

Then Blaine ripped the mic from the stand and exploded into action. Jeff's jaw dropped.

"'Cause you're hot, then you're cold  
You're 'yes', then you're 'no'  
You're in, then you're out  
You're up, then you're down."

_Good? Holy shit..he's freakin' _awesome! And those moves didn't look like Dance Dance Revolution, either; Blaine was strutting around the stage like a pro, dynamic and confident. Jeff never would've guessed this person was the skittish kid he'd met three weeks ago.

"You're wrong when it's right  
It's black and it's white  
We fight, we break up  
We kiss, we make up."

Someone was elbowing him in the ribs. Jeff tore himself away from Blaine's performance to look at Nick—who was mouthing _Oh my God. _Jeff could only shrug.

"(You) You don't really want to stay, no  
(You) But you really don't want to go-oh..."

Jeff snuck a glance down at the Warblers. They were all totally into the performance. Head Warbler Ken was even bopping his head in time to the music. _Go, Blaine Timberlake!_ Jeff silently cheered.

When the second chorus repeat came around, Jeff found himself singing along:

"'Cause you're hot, then you're cold  
You're 'yes', then you're 'no'."

Nick stared at him for about two seconds, then grinned and joined in, harmonizing:

"You're in, then you're out  
You're up, then you're down."

Then Cam started, with Andy following:

"You're wrong when it's right  
It's black and it's white."

Jeff was surprised; their impromptu four-part harmony wasn't half bad.

"We fight, we break up  
We kiss, we make up."

Not missing a beat, Blaine danced over to them. Jeff could see the appreciation in his eyes.

They finished the song as a group, with Blaine nailing the vocal runs during the last repeat of the chorus. Afterward, Blaine came over to thank Jeff, Nick and the others. Jeff was still mind-blown by that transformation from mild-mannered schoolboy to teen pop star.

The guys jumped up to congratulate him. "Dude, that was so freakin'_ dope!" _Andy shouted as he clapped Blaine on the shoulder.

And, for the first time, Blaine didn't flinch.

Ken stood and spoke with that constipated formality of his that reminded Jeff of those politicians on C-SPAN. "Mr. Anderson, that was quite impressive. Fellow Warblers,_ this,"_ he said, pointing at Blaine, "is precisely the direction I want our group to move in this year. And, as for your back-up singers...well done, gentlemen. You not only improvised that harmony, but supported a brother student. That's exactly the team spirit we always encourage and embrace."

The next day, Jeff's phone chimed while he was walking to soccer practice. Digging it out of his pocket, he saw he'd received an e-mail. From _daltonwarblers-at-gmail-dot-com ._ It was addressed to Junior Warbler Jeffrey S. Sterling, congratulating him for having been accepted as a member of the 2009-2010 Dalton Academy Warblers.

The e-mail included a link to an actual Warbler webpage. _These dudes are hard-core,_ Jeff smirked as he perused the site. The complete membership roster was posted. Nicholas Duval and Blaine Anderson were also on the list.

* * *

One night, rather than read Act Two of _King Lear (that's what__ SparkNotes is for, right?), _Jeff took a good, long look at his roommate_._ Ever since the Warbler tryouts, Blaine had changed. He had a new sparkle in his eye...a new confidence. Like performing had turned on some hidden switch.

It wasn't like he'd been a bad guy before, either. He was certainly cooler than Jeff's first roommate. Blaine never had a problem with Jeff's smart-ass attitude or the high-spiritedness that some (well...most) people mistook for immature behavior. He was certainly every parent's wet dream: quiet, polite, organized, easy-going.

And he was easy to talk to. Jeff had told Blaine about his folks and his sisters. About Nick and how they'd been friends ever since he'd moved to Fox Chapel. He even hinted at his troubles last year in junior high, vaguely hoping for something in return.

Apart from that one comment he'd uttered the day they'd met, Blaine _never_ talked about his family. Which wasn't entirely out of the ordinary: he knew several boys here that weren't exactly on the best of terms with their folks for one reason or another.

But there were other things that didn't make sense...

There was the age thing; next month was this freshman's _sixteenth_ birthday. Jeff knew there was no way this kid could've been held back—he was a straight-A student _and _a peer tutor, for God's sake.

Then there were the scars.

Their second night at Dalton, while undressing for bed (and, no, he had absolutely _not_ been checking Blaine out), Jeff noticed a long surgical scar on Blaine's side. While changing for soccer tryouts, he couldn't help but see several, more random scars on his shoulder, chest and back. And, last week when they'd both overslept and were scrambling to get ready in the bathroom, he'd spotted another; it was a particularly nasty-looking one on his scalp, above the hairline. Blaine obviously styled his hair to cover it up.

Also, after writing for any length of time, Blaine always stopped and slowly flexed the fingers of his right hand. And when he did, his breath hitched in pain. Just like Jeff's grandma, when her arthritis "acted up".

When Jeff asked about the scars and stuff, Blaine told him that he'd been in a bad accident last year and he didn't like to talk about it.

It was a totally plausible explanation. But something Jeff saw in Blaine's eyes made him not believe it.

* * *

The week before Halloween, signs went up on all the notice boards announcing the annual Harvest Ball, a semi-formal dance being held on November 20th. The event was thrown in cooperation with Dalton's sister school, Crawford Country Day. Jeff asked his roommate if he were going. He figured that, after what he was seeing at Warbler practice, Blaine would be jazzed to go to any kind of dance.

To his surprise, Blaine averted his eyes and muttered, "Uh...I don't think so," before burying his nose in his Western Civilizations textbook. Hm. Jeff thought he'd looked more than a little weirded out after that.

While lying in bed that night, Jeff starting thinking. Being gay and all, maybe Blaine thought he wouldn't have a good time with the Crawford girls. So, the next day, Jeff invited Blaine to hang with him and Nick and their other friends who were going stag. Nick assured him if he didn't feel like dancing, that was perfectly okay.

Blaine looked down at his feet—reminding Jeff of the timid Blaine he'd met at the beginning of school. "No, thanks, guys. I'm gonna pass," he said. Then immediately walked away, leaving Nick and Jeff to exchange a puzzled glance. Which they exchanged again that evening when Blaine blew them off at dinner. He sat with Wes, David, Duncan Wood and Shane Hardy at a table on the other side of the dining hall.

They didn't see him again until curfew, when he silently went to bed.

Jeff refused to give up. The more Blaine turned him down, the more Jeff was determined to get him to go to that dance. Though Nick was getting a bad feeling about this, he knew his best friend. And knew there was no stopping him.

The following day, after last period, Jeff tracked his roommate down. He found Blaine in the otherwise empty Biology room. He was sitting at a lab bench doing his homework—no doubt hiding out there in his continuing attempt to avoid Jeff. "Hey."

Startled, Blaine stood up. "Hi, Jeff," he was saying when Jeff suddenly marched over and backed him into a corner.

Placing his hands on the walls either side of Blaine's head, Jeff effectively boxed him in. He leaned in close and, with a wicked smile, told Blaine, "Listen, dude. You're goin' to that dance _and_ having good time whether you want to or not. Even if we have to tie you up and carry you there."

_Then_ he realized how Blaine had tensed up. And that all the color had drained out of his face. The shorter boy squeezed his eyes shut and said, in a small voice, "N-no, you won't."

Jeff was taken aback. _What's goin' on? Is he..._scared_ of me? _

He put what he meant to be a reassuring hand on Blaine's rigid, trembling shoulder and started to say "Dude, what's wr—" when Blaine suddenly jerked away, screamed, _"LEAVE ME ALONE!" _and tore out of the room.

_What. The. Fuck._

As Jeff stood there, trying to figure out what had just happened, he saw a flash of movement outside the window. _No way. _Blaine was sprinting across the quad and down the slope toward South Pond.

Jeff bolted out of the science building and ran after him, cursing as he tried to keep up. Then, on the hill, he slipped on some fucking wet leaves and almost lost his balance. Worse, during all the stumbling and arm flailing, he'd lost sight of Blaine.

He skidded to a halt, stopping just before he would've plunged into the pond. He frantically looked both ways up and down the path running along the shore. No sign of him.

Jeff leaned against a tree. He thumped it with his fist out of frustration. _Shit!_

As he caught his breath, he became aware of the cadence of pounding feet approaching. He looked up. The cross-country team was jogging up the path toward him. He saw Warbler Duncan in the lead, the black-haired senior giving him a curious stare without breaking stride.

_"Hey!"_ shouted a familiar voice. Jeff turned to see Nick separating himself from the pack of running boys. "What's goin' on?" Nick asked, eyes wide.

Jeff realized he must be quite a sight—shirttail untucked, tie whipped over his shoulder, hair hanging in his face. "Help me find Blaine," he snapped, swiping his bangs out of his eyes.

"Wha—?"

"Don't ask," he grimaced. "I kinda...did somethin' stupid."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "What else is new?"

"Ha ha," Jeff deadpanned, then admitted, "The friggin' dance. Told him he was goin'. That he had no choice. I don't know why, but he freaked out and ran off."

"Oh, _crap."_

While Nick went back the way he'd come, Jeff started up the path, scanning the woods for any sign of Blaine. Thank God the groundskeepers regularly cleared out most of the small brush or he'd have no chance of finding him at all.

The sun was going down. Jeff walked faster, then started running. Still no Blaine. He stopped for a breather, sitting on one of those crazy marble benches. Carved into the seat was _"Prudentiam"—_insight. He smiled humorlessly. _I definitely could use some of _that_ right now._ Looking out across the water, he was surprised to see the Dalton campus on the other side. He hadn't realized he'd come halfway around the pond already.

As the pounding in his ears subsided and his own breathing slowed, he heard _someone's else_ breath sounds.

Behind him.

Slowly turning, he caught a glimpse of red. Like the Dalton sweater vest Blaine had been wearing.

There he was, sitting between the roots of a huge oak tree, knees hugged to his chest. He glared at Jeff, his eyes a mixture of fear and anger. The kid was totally freaked out.

But _why?_ Jeff knew Blaine had been bullied, but—

Something clicked in Jeff's head. Junior high. The attack in the boys' locker room.

He thought back to the first time he'd entered the locker room here at Dalton..._how he'd gotten queasy just over the sour sweat smell...felt trapped when he'd heard the door close...the two-second panic when a football player had come around a corner—just like Stu Slater and the others had that day. _To this day, he still felt an occasional twinge of angst.

Remembering the timid boy he'd met back in August who'd flinched when someone even got close to him, Jeff guessed something even _worse_ than that locker-room beating must have happened to Blaine...something that would've given him all those scars...

_Something that might've happened at a school dance,_ he suddenly realized. _Oh, fuck..._

He heard someone running up the path. It was Nick. He'd come around the pond from the opposite direction. Breathless, he called out, "No sign of—" Jeff cut him off with a raised hand.

Nick was about to protest, then saw Blaine sitting all hunched up. Looking worried, he kept quiet and knelt on the ground.

Jeff crouched down a few feet away from Blaine, trying not to spook him. "Hey, buddy..."

"I-I'm not goin'...you can't make me," he muttered, never taking his eyes off Jeff.

"Okay. You don't hafta do anything you don't want to. Honest." He tried to smile reassuringly. "I'm sorry. Really. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm sort of a jerk." He chose to ignore Nick's snort of agreement.

Blaine didn't say anything; his gaze never wavered as Jeff crept closer.

"It's okay. I get it. I got the shit beat out of me at school every day. The last time, they put me in the hospital."

Blaine's eyes narrowed. He sounded both sad and angry when he blurted out, "Oh, yeah? Were _you_ in a coma, too? And fucked up so bad that you had to stay in that hospital for_ four months? _Didja miss so much school you had to restart _your_ freshman year all over again?"

Jeff's stomach knotted. _No way._ "Wha...?"

"Yeah. Last year, I went to a dance. With my friend Jack. We were...we were the only two out kids at school." Blaine's eyes darkened, lost focus. "It was a Sadie Hawkins Dance. And I asked _him_. We spent most of the night standing in the corner. But we danced one dance." His voice broke. _"One lousy dance..."_

A horrible chill crept through Jeff's body as Blaine started telling them how, last November after the dance, he and his friend had been stupidly waiting for their ride alone outside the gym...

_...when he'd heard the pounding of running feet. Before he could even turn around, someone had grabbed him by the back of his blazer and slammed him face-first into the side of the building. A bolt of white-hot pain exploded in his forehead__. Then the back of his skull smacked up against the bricks when he was spun around and shoved into a corner... _

(Jeff winced, thinking how he'd forced Blaine into the corner in the Bio lab.)

_...Blaine's __head was swimming. Blood streamed down his forehead and into his eyes, half-blinding him. He heard someone close shouting "fag" and "homo". Felt spittle hitting his cheek. Smelled the sour reek of beer. The guy must've been right up in his face._

_He still couldn't see, but from the voices, Blaine could tell there were three of them. And it sounded like two were whaling on Jack. Until Jack's shouts abruptly stopped. _

_There was a brief silence—then a fist smashed into his face. And another. He cried out as he felt the sickening crunch of his nose breaking. He was gagging on the blood pouring down into his throat when a jackhammer pounding of blows to his body left him gasping and heaving in pain. After a brutal shove, he hit the ground and a stabbing agony erupted in his side that overloaded all his other senses. It happened again when they stomped on his hand._

_He must've been in a state of shock by then; he barely felt it when they started kicking him all over. _

_Finally, so__mething smashed into his skull and everything went black..._

_...and he woke up in a hospital. His brother was at his bedside, relieved and crying and pissed as hell all at the same time. He didn't see their parents. (They were in Manhattan, he found out later. At some corporate holiday bash.)_

_He'd been in a coma since the dance, Cooper gently told him. Thirty-six days. Blaine couldn't believe it was now December 21st. He tried to understand as the doctors spoke: head trauma...ruptured spleen...shattered hand...fractured ribs...broken leg...a lucky young man..._

_Yeah. Real lucky._

_He spent the next four months in a rehabilitation center. Having sometimes three panic attacks a day as life became a confusing blur of follow-up surgeries and physical therapy and nightmares and counseling..._

_Oh, God. _Jeff felt sick. He didn't want to believe what he'd heard. Bad memories were playing on the edge of his mind. He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling like his brain was shutting down_. _"Hey," he heard a voice say, sounding very far away. At the same time, someone gripped his hand. "It's okay."

Jeff tried to focus. It was Nick, his dark eyes wide and full of concern_―_worrying about him even though it looked like all _he_ wanted to do right now was go and throw up.

With some effort, Jeff broke the spell and pulled himself together; he even managed a weak smile to show Nick he wasn't gonna fall apart.

Blaine was pale and clammy. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes. Jeff carefully reached out to him. When Blaine didn't jerk away, he put his arm around his shoulders. He was surprised when Blaine leaned into him.

He was still talking. "The worst thing was they never found out who did it. With all the blood in my eyes and everything, I never saw who they were. And Jack...he didn't remember anything. Not even the dance. He woke up in the ER and thought it was the morning before." His voice started to crack. "Not like it mattered...those cops couldn't've cared less about two 'fag kids' getting beat up."

"Oh, man..." Jeff whispered. "I'm sorry." There was nothing he could say that would make it better. "I'm so sorry..."

The three boys just sat there on the cold ground. They were still sitting there when the lamp posts along the path automatically turned on at dusk.

* * *

"Hey, Sterling! You're missing a great time! You'll be sor-_ree!"_

Jeff leaned in his doorway, arms folded across his chest. It was the night of the Harvest Ball. He watched as the guys, dressed in non-uniform blazers and ties, streamed down the hall on their way to the busses waiting to take them to the dance.

As they passed, they bantered with Jeff_―_and Nick and Blaine, who were lounging inside the room. The three boys were comfortable in sweats and tee-shirts as they prepared for their all-night movie marathon.

At Jeff's insistence, they did a three-way "Rock, Paper, Scissors" for first movie pick. Blaine won. _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. _Not exactly a big surprise since he was wearing a tee with _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ printed on it.

Jeff groaned; his baby sister watched that movie (and all the others) constantly. But at least it was better than one of Nick's old _Star Trek_ movies._ I don't know what's worse: _Star Trek—The "Motionless" Picture _or Bon Jovi...wait, _why_ I am friends with him again...?_

Nick volunteered to go down the hall to the kitchenette and nuke the popcorn. After he left, Jeff shocked Blaine by informing him their friend was a Potter virgin. Nick had never been interested the Harry Potter films. Or even the books. For years, Jeff had kidded him for being the only kid in America who was immune to Pottermania. To which Nick replied that he liked his fiction to be more science, less fantasy.

After setting up the Potter DVD, Blaine turned to Jeff and said, "I...just wanted to say thanks...I mean, you didn't have to stay. I know you guys wanted to go."

Three weeks had passed since Blaine's meltdown. That night, Jeff and Blaine had talked until dawn. Blaine told him about his family (especially how he barely existed in his parents' eyes since coming out to them) and Jack and the bullying at his old school leading up to the assault. Jeff had shared his own experiences in junior high and how they'd brought him to Dalton. It was funny; that was _only_ three weeks ago—now he thought of Blaine as one of his best friends.

Jeff shrugged. "Nah, not really. Just an excuse to get off campus. I mean, it's not like I was gonna dance with anyone anyway. Woulda just ended up ragging on Cam. You've seen him in practice; dude can't dance to save his life. _And," _he smirked, raising his voice as Nick came back with the popcorn, "you spared Nicky the humiliation of gettin' shot down by a couple dozen girls with good taste_—_"

Jeff ducked as two puffed-up popcorn bags came flying at his head. When he looked up, Nick was flipping him off and saying "Bite me!" with an evil smile.

"You wish," Jeff taunted, blowing Nick a kiss off his own raised middle finger. "Bring it, you big dork!_"_

_"Brung!"_ Jeff was pushed down on his back when a grinning Nick suddenly lunged at him. His head landed on one of the popcorn bags, bursting it open.

As they started wrestling on the floor, he could see Blaine laughing at them as he got out the way...

* * *

Blaine Anderson laughed as Nick hurled himself at Jeff and pinned him to the floor. He scrambled up onto his bed as Jeff broke the hold and they started rolling around, shouting and laughing.

They were adorable. He'd been at Dalton for three months and it was _so_ obvious his two friends were oblivious.

Jeff finally got the upper hand. Straddling Nick's chest (his crotch inches from Nick's face) Jeff had his friend's arms pinned down with his knees. Jeff threw a fist in the air and shouted that he was the "ultimate fighting champion"—right before Nick bucked wildly and toppled him off.

Blaine just shook his head. He wondered how long it would take for them to get a clue...

* * *

_**NEXT UP: The Warblers at Regionals and the founding of Dalton's f**** c***.**_

_**A/N: **I'd just like to give a shout-out to****** TextingSconesAndBowties, CouldIBeAnyMoreOfAGleek, Love'sSuchAnOldFashionedWord, Evil-Muffin-ator, Spice of Life, VVAGirl, MissMarie in Wonderland, TomorrowsMorbidSunshine** and**x-Meiko-Rose-x**. Thanks for your patience. Hope it was worth the wait._

_The chapter title "Everybody's Broken" comes from the Bon Jovi song of the same name, released on the 2007 album _Lost Highway.

_Thanks for reading! Thoughts and feelings? Please review._


	3. Chapter 3: Wild In The Streets

_**I AM  
**_

**Chapter Three - "Wild In The Streets"**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of _Glee_, its characters, settings or plot; these belong to Ryan Murphy, Fox Broadcasting, _et al. _All the songs used belong to their respective artists.

* * *

Jeff Sterling was having a pretty awesome night.

First, he'd been anxious, his stomach tightening when the announcer's voice reverberated through the Proctor & Gamble Hall of Cincinnati's Aranoff Center for the Arts. _"Ladies and gentlemen, for the final performance of the evening, please welcome from Westerville, Ohio...the Dalton Academy Warblers!"_

Ten seconds into the opening number_―_the Jonas Brothers' "Burnin' Up"_―_Jeff relaxed. Because he _knew_ the Warblers were going to win Regionals.

"I'm hot, you're cold  
You go around like you know  
Who I am, but you_don't_  
You've got me on my toes!"

They'd smoked the competition at Sectionals. With a medley of the top pop songs of 2009 and some slick dance moves that had shocked everyone expecting the usually stodgy Warblers to trot out a salute to Simon and Garfunkel or something equally lame. And with that win under their belts, the group was determined to prove that the "new-and-improved" Warblers weren't just a one-hit wonder.

"I'm slippin' into the lava  
And I'm tryin' to keep from goin' under  
Baby, who turned the temperature hotter?  
'Cause I'm burnin' up  
Burnin' up for _you,_ baby!"

No worries. They were in the _zone_ tonight. Shane Hardy was center stage as lead vocalist. Jeff, Blaine, David and Jamie Kirk were dancing behind him and singing back-up.

They were a hit; the audience was already cheering and clapping. Jeff smirked when he saw that most of the female_―_and more than a few male_―_eyes in the house were riveted on the soloist. With his blue eyes and dirty blond surfer-boy hair, Shane looked every inch the nickname pinned on him by Senior Warbler Duncan Wood: "Heartthrob".

"C'mon, girl!"

Shane strutted downstage and started eye-flirting with random teens in the first few rows; the girls squealed in response.

"I fell _(I fell)_  
So fast _(So fast)_  
Can't hold myself back!"

Duncan had wanted the number to have a boy-band feel. At the last minute, he'd gone around to the five featured boys loosening ties and mussing their hair. He'd had a hell of a time with Blaine's gel helmet; Jeff had cracked up watching Duncan's struggle to loosen up those shellacked curls without benefit of a blowtorch. _I think it's time for Nicky and me to stage that "gel-vention" we've been talkin' about._

"High heels _(High heels!)  
_Red dress _(Red dress!)_  
All by yourself, gotta catch my breath..."

Then, as Jeff and the others had taken their positions, he saw Ken Stevenson suddenly pull Duncan aside. Jeff had sniggered as their uptight head council member threw a whispered shit-fit over Duncan sending "disheveled Warblers" onstage. Duncan had just shrugged it off, giving his friend a sly smile that said _Just trust me..._

* * *

From the top riser, Nick Duval watched the audience get to its collective feet and clap in time with the music. They were really enjoying the whole boy band effect. And why not? Jeff, Shane and the others were seriously bringin' the sexy. _Great call, Duncan! _He couldn't help grinning; things couldn't be going better.

When they reached the song's rap lyrics, Nick and the other background Warblers stopped vocalizing instruments and took over the singing:

"Burnin' up in this place tonight  
The brothers sing it loud _(And we're feeling right!)_  
Get up and dance, don't try to fight it..."

As they did, Shane faded back and joined the other four boys for a synchronized dance break. With his years of dance training, Jeff had helped choreograph the hip-hop-based routine. Nick watched them, amazed as always at how Jeff could put so much attitude into the moves and yet still seem so...graceful and fluid. Like right now, the way Jeff was pivoting his hips and shaking his___―_

"...I'm slippin' into the lava _(Burnin' up! Burnin' up!)_  
And I'm tryin' to keep from goin' under _(Yeah!)"_

And when Nick realized he'd been_ staring_ at Jeff's ass___―__WTF?!____―_he hastily looked through the stage-light glare and out into the audience instead.

"Baby, who turned the temperature hotter?  
_(Come on!)"_

Crap. Nick side-glanced at the other guys. He was lost and performing on auto-pilot. Thank God they'd practiced the routine so many times he could dance it in his sleep. Listening to the lyrics, he tried to work out where the hell they were; the last thing he remembered, they were rapping.

"'Cause I'm burnin' up  
Burnin' up for _you,_ baby!"

Crap! The song was almost over. He felt himself blushing; how _long_ had he been zoning? They were at the point the group fell silent, leaving Shane to sing the ending alone:

"Burnin' up, _burnin' _up  
For _you,_ ba-a-by!"

The audience erupted with enthusiastic applause.

The stage lights went down. The Warblers quickly regrouped in the darkness. Nick had no time to dwell on what'd happened back there; he was up next. Ken entered from the right wing, lit by a lone traveling spotlight as he moved downstage; he began singing the Leona Lewis ballad "Bleeding Love".

"Closed off from love  
I didn't need the pain  
Once or twice was enough  
And it was all in vain  
Time starts to pass  
Before you know it, you're frozen."

The background vocals started. Three more spots lit. Revealing Nick, Thad and Luke Wright behind Ken as they stepped down from the risers to harmonize.

"Oh, but somethin' happened  
For the very first time with you  
My heart melts into the ground  
Found somethin' true..."

As he danced, Nick turned and caught a glimpse of Jeff's light blond hair as his friend stood up on the risers...

* * *

Standing next to Andy and Flint as they beat boxed, Jeff had to fight from rolling his eyes; he was basically just swaying in unison with the other Warblers while mindlessly "ooohing" the vocal accompaniment. _Real challenging stuff. I know it's a slow song, but we could've come up with some better choreo than this. Whatever. Can't risk upstaging the man in charge...  
_

"...my heart's crippled by the vein  
That I keep on closin'  
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding  
Keep, keep bleeding love."

He looked downstage at the featured singers. Jeff's gaze traveled from Ken to the three boys dancing behind him in circles of light cast by the overhead pinspots, focusing on Nick.___ BTW, meaning no disrespect to our fearless leader, but Nicky would _kill___ singing lead on this piec_e.

"I keep bleeding  
I keep, keep bleeding love  
Keep bleeding  
Keep, keep bleeding love  
You cut me open..."

He'd always thought Nick's voice was beautiful; it had depth and soul and would've perfectly suited the Jesse McCartney cover the performance was based on.

"...but nothing's greater than the rush  
That comes with your embrace."

The color of the pinspots began shifting from soft white to pale blue. Jeff was watching Nick's face in profile. He couldn't help smiling. _Nice effect. Damn, in that light Nicky looks almost...angelic._

"And in this world of loneliness  
I see your face."

Which had him asking himself a question that seemed to be on his mind a lot recently.

"Yet everyone around me  
Thinks that I'm goin' crazy, maybe, maybe."

_When did the big dork get so good looking...? _

"But I don't care what they say  
I'm in love with you..."

* * *

After the competition, Nick piled into Duncan and Ken's hotel room along with Jeff and the rest of the younger Warblers. The dapper schoolboys had shucked their uniform blazers and ties, pulled on sweats and athletic shorts, ordered room service and were currently stuffing their faces while watching TV.

When they'd arrived back at the hotel, Mr. Donaldson had congratulated them on the win_. Then_ segued into a lecture on how Dalton boys were expected to carry themselves with pride and dignity___―_the finale being a reminder (or warning) that their behavior directly reflected on the reputation of the school. That said, the elderly headmaster retired for the evening with his wife_. _

And as soon as the coast was clear, most of the juniors and seniors hightailed it down to the hotel lounge. Most with fake IDs in their pockets.

Bored with the bad action flick the guys were watching, Nick sat texting with Seth at Dalton. But his mind kept wandering...

_...after the applause for "Bleeding Love" faded, the Warblers jumped right into their final number__―_Linkin Park's "New Divide". Duncan and Wes shared lead vocals, the group choreography was crazy ambitious and the piece had been arranged to finish with a show-stopping vocal "wall of sound".

_The standing ovation was thunderous._

_After the competition, Nick stood on stage, sweating under the hot lights while waiting for the awards presentation. The Warblers were crowded together with Nick squashed in between Blaine and Jeff. __The emcee, milking the tension, slowly tore open the first envelope and read, _"And in third place...from Newport, Kentucky...the Villa Victoria Decibelles..."

_After the Villa girls had taken their trophy and left the stage, Nick felt his stomach knotting; it was down to the Warblers and the Camelots from John F. Kennedy High in Warren, Ohio. He __blew out a huge tension-cleansing breath. It didn't help._

_Then someone gripped his hand __and gave it a squeeze. __Jeff._

_His friend flashed him his cockiest grin and muttered,_ _"We've so got this." Looking in Jeff's eyes, Nick's tension instantly evaporated__―_barring a little flutter of excitement. He felt himself smiling in return.

_Then he heard the emcee call out: _"And congratulations to the 2010 Central Midwest Regional Show Choir Champions...from Westerville, Ohio...the Dalton Academy Warblers!"

Holy freakin' hell, yes! _Nick jumped up and punched the air.__ Jeff let out a Rebel yell______―_then turned and crushed Nick in a bear hug. Their eyes connected for one...two...three seconds...___before_ they were thrown off-balance by Blaine when he jumped on them and hugged them both. As soon as he did, Jeff looked away. A_nd _cracked up when he saw how Blaine's gel-free curls were bouncing with excitement_____―_

Nick started when his phone chimed. Crap. He was zoning again (he'd been doing that a lot recently) and missed Seth's last two texts. Nick thumbed a hasty reply, then a goodbye.

As he was putting his phone away, Flint came in from the adjoining room he was sharing with Shane. He was carrying a gym bag_____―_which clinked when it was set down on the desk. Nick wasn't exactly surprised when Flint started pulling out liquor bottles. "Time to get this party started!" the beat boxer crowed.

Having drawn the short straws, Flint and Shane had been left behind to look after the younger boys. Shane eyed the five blue bottles of Skyy vodka now standing on the desk. "Where'd you get all _that?" _he asked with an inquisitive smile.

"Not from Room Service, if _that's_ what you're afraid of," Flint smirked, cracking open the first bottle. "Beyond that, I plead the fifth."

Nick accepted the glass when it was shoved in his hand. He'd never drank before, not even beer. The clear fluid inside may have _looked_ like water but when the alcohol fumes hit his nostrils, the difference was obvious.

Flint hoisted his cup. "Dalton Warblers _rule,_ dudes! Nationals, here we come!" he toasted, tossing the drink back. The others followed suit.

There were a few coughs. Blaine choked and Thad started pounding him on the back. Jeff scrunched up his face, swallowed and slammed his empty cup down on the table. Through watery eyes, he looked expectantly at Nick._ "C'mon,_ you big dork."

Nick threw Jeff a dirty look. Now everyone was staring at him_____―_and chanting "Nick...Nick...Nick..."

_Oh, well... as the new Doctor would say: Geronimo__! _Nick bolted the drink. _Auughh! _It tasted like rubbing alcohol smelled_..._and it _burned! _He coughed once. Twice. His eyes started to sting as they teared up. As the Warblers cheered, he took a deep breath___―_praying he wouldn't embarrass himself by throwing up.

Jeff started rubbing his back. "You okay there?"

_Not really, but that feels nice. _Nick met Jeff's concerned gaze and nodded. "Think so."

"Round two!" Flint called out as he passed by and splashed more vodka into their cups.

Nick rolled his eyes ceilingward. Jeff smirked, opened the mini-fridge, selected a bottle of cranberry juice and topped off Nick's drink. "This'll help." After adding some to his own, he clicked his cup against Nick's.

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Nick deadpanned, "Really?" He took a sip and grimaced. _Liar._

The _next_ one wasn't so bad, though. Nick guessed it was probably due to the alcohol starting to seep into his brain. He felt himself smiling widely as the party started to get...interesting. Everybody sounded louder. And started acting goofy (well...goofier). Ethan and Jamie certainly were the way they were hanging on each other and giggling___._

After what Nick fuzzily realized was his fifth drink, _some_thing kicked Blaine into performance mode; he jumped up on one of the beds and rocked out while singing:

"Dark in the city, night is a wire  
Steam in the subway, earth is afire  
_Doo-doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo-doo!"_

Just like he was auditioning for a solo, Blaine gave it his all. The other guys started to sing along:

"Woman, you want me, gimme a sign  
And catch my breathin' even closer behind  
_Doo-doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo-doo!"_

_Whafuck?_ Suddenly Blaine spun around, jumped over to the other bed and continued:

"Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand  
_Smell like I sound!  
_Just like that river twistin' through a dusty land  
_Straddle the line!"_

Nick sat there sipping his drink, trying to figure out if this was still the same song_―_but got distracted when Ethan and Jamie started grinding against each other to the music.

"And when she shines, she really shows you all she can  
_Mouth is alive!_  
Oh, Rio, Rio, dance across the Rio Grande!"

Blaine spun around again and jumped back to the first bed.

"Stalked in the forest, too close to hide  
I'll be upon you by the moonlight side_..._"

By the time Nick managed to work it out _(Hey, Brainiac...it's_ two _songs! All mixed up together! Duh!), _Cam started shouting, "Never Have I Ever! Les' play Never...Have...I...Ever!"

The game started out normally with things like "Never have I ever cheated on a test" and "Never have I ever broke curfew". Routine stuff. But then guys started going after each other. When it was Jeff's turn, he gave Nick a wicked smile and said, "Never haff I ever...worn _Star Wars_ underwear to Regionals."

Nick looked at him in shock._ Hey! No fair! Thass_ s'posed_ to be a_ secret._ BTW, ya jerk, y' know they're lucky! _he pouted as he took his drink amid all the razzing...

* * *

...while Jeff tried to keep from laughing._ Tha' was a crappy thing fer me t' do. But Nicky is sooo cute when he's angry! _he observed, quite pleased with himself. Meanwhile, if they could, Nick's eyes would be drilling holes in his head_._

When it was Nick's turn, Jeff found himself on the receiving end of a very evil grin. "Never haff I ever...worn guyliner," Nick cackled, referring to the time he'd walked in on Jeff standing at his mirror, studying a picture of Zac Efron and practicing with an eyeliner pencil. _And_ actually caught him wearing it at Sectionals.

_Awright...now we're even. _Jeff smirked back at Nick and he threw back his drink like a shot. The guys ribbed him_. _And David and Cam when they drank, too.

Then came Flint's turn: "Never have I ever kissed a dude." Someone sniggered.

Shane shrugged and drained his cup. As did Ethan and Jamie. Then a sheepishly grinning David. "Eyes back in your heads, guys. It was dare!" he explained; everyone was always kidding him about the depth of his "epic bromance" with Wes.

All eyes were on the two gay freshmen. Jeff shook his head, admitted, "Nope, sorry," and looked over at Blaine, who he knew, like him, had never kissed a boy. Poor Blaine was obviously upset with that fact and was changing from "happy drunk" to "weepy drunk" right before his eyes. His lower lip stuck out as he moped, "Uh-uh."

After watching Blaine's mood nose-dive, Shane said softly, "Hey, Blaine." As Blaine looked up with his sad-puppy eyes, the older boy leaned forward, cupped Blaine's face and gently caught the younger boy's lips with his own.

"Get some, Anderson!" Flint called out; the other Warblers whistled and catcalled.

Jeff stared bug-eyed_. _He couldn't believe it; Blaine was being kissed by one of the most beautiful boys at Dalton. _Ho. Ly. Shit. Blaine, you lucky fucker!_

Shane pulled back, his kiss leaving Blaine with a comically dazed expression on his face. "There you go, Blaine Anderson; you've kissed a boy." While Blaine beamed, Shane reminded him, "And now you hafta drink."

Jeff felt really _really_ left out. _Hey! No fair!_ "Iss my turn. Y'did _him,_ y'gotta do _me!"_ he insisted. He heard guys start snickering, but Jeff was too distracted to realize how really _wrong_ that sentence sounded.

He felt someone turning his head and found himself nose to nose with Nick. Nick smiled sloppily at him and slurred, "Hey, yer my bes' friend...an' if someone's gonna kiss ya, iss gonna be _me." _

Before Jeff knew what was happening, Nick was bending in and kissing the corner of his mouth_―w__hoa,_ _Nicky's really kissin'_ _me?__―_and _then_ tilting his head and capturing his lips in a proper kiss. As Jeff sat there stunned, Nick's hand moved up the back of his head, fingers twining into his hair. His eyes closed when Nick gently started sucking his lower lip.

_Holy shit...__Nicky is _really_ kissin' me...ohhh, God..._

The kiss went on, hot and wet and slow. After however many minutes, Nick slowly released Jeff's head. When he reluctantly pulled back, Jeff looked over at Nick. Rather than look freaked out like he expected him to, Nick was breathless and flushed. And with his bashful smile and rumpled hair, Jeff thought he looked so freaking _hot._ He didn't know what he was doing...he just knew he wanted to kiss Nick again.

He leaned in and found Nick's mouth with his own...

* * *

...as Nick sat there in a blissful daze watching as Jeff leaned in. And for the second time, Jeff's mouth was pressed on his, all hot and hungry and determined and he hadn't been expecting Jeff to kiss him back at all, let alone one-up him with a kiss like_ this._ Nick didn't know what to think...but he _didn't_ think about backing off. The feeling was just too, _too_ intense.

The kiss deepened and, before Nick realized it, his lips parted and Jeff slowly ran his tongue across lower lip, then his teeth. His hands slid into Nick's long hair, pulling him even closer as their tongues started flirting_―o__hhh, man! Jeff is an awesome kisser__―_and it was like their lips fit perfectly together.

From somewhere far away, Nick heard the guys' voices hooting and hollering. And as Jeff thrust his tongue deep into his mouth, he thought of that line from the song Blaine had been singing.

_Ohh, yeah...mouth is alive..._

* * *

Things had been quiet for a while when Shane Hardy heard the click of the lock. The Dalton Academy junior looked up from the TV to see the door opening; it was Duncan, back from the hotel lounge and sporting his signature sly smile.

Duncan looked around at the scatter of sleeping underclassmen, most of whom had just crashed where it was convenient. "Hey, Heartthrob," he stage-whispered, winking at Shane.

"Hey yourself. What's doin'?"

"A best friend's work is never done. I made sure that Kenny hooked up. Some girl from UC," he smirked at the memory. "He'll be warbling tomorrow for sure." He stepped into the room_―_by stepping over Thad, who was spooning with a sofa cushion_―_and quirked an eyebrow. "Everything okay here in the Babysitter's Club?"

"Well, y'know...somehow they went and got themselves drunk," Shane joked, the alcohol thickening his normally faint Southern drawl. He knew Duncan knew about the...libations Flint had packed in his bag. "But better in here than runnin' loose through the hotel. Unless y'all raised hell down in the bar, Dalton's reputation is intact."

"The Head'll be thrilled..." Duncan stopped when he noticed Nick and Jeff cuddling. They were leaning up against the foot of the bed. Nick's head was resting on Jeff's shoulder with Jeff's head resting on top of Nick's. They were holding hands, fingers laced, and their legs were intertwined.

"Well, _this_ is...interesting," he commented, shooting Shane an arch look. "And unexpected."

"Nah, it's been a long time coming."

"Get out. The Brothers Niff, huh?" His amused smile widened as he remembered something. "Wait a minute...I thought Duval was _straight."_

Shane shrugged. "Maybe. Didn't stop him from plantin' the first one on Sterling," he recounted. "Who gladly returned the favor."

"First kiss, huh?" Duncan looked down at the sleeping pair. "Go for it, guys."

Shane chuckled, "Shame they were so shit-faced they probably won't even remember it."

"Yeah. Just blame it on the alcohol," Duncan half-sang.

Still enjoying his own buzz, Shane stood and walked over to Duncan. "Well, Mr. Wood, you took good care of your best friend. Now how 'bout your _boy_friend?"

Smiling, Duncan threaded his fingers through Shane's hair and pulled him in for a kiss. "Don't worry," Duncan whispered huskily, taking him by hand and guiding him toward the door to the adjoining room. "I always tip the babysitter..."

* * *

Jeff woke, wondering why a dozen hammers were beating a heavy-metal drum solo on his head. He tried cracking his eyes open a tiny bit, but the light stabbing in from the windows started a whole new and more painful throbbing so he squeezed them shut.

His mouth tasted like he'd used it to clean toilets. Eyes still closed, he struggled to his feet (because he was all _tangled up_ with something warm and heavy) and staggered to the bathroom, praying he didn't have an accident before he could get there. While relieving himself, the impossibly _loud_ sound of his stream made the throbbing in his head even worse.

Fragments of a song played through his mind: _Oh, Rio, Rio, hear them shout across the land...mouth is alive...from mountains in the north―_

_Mouth is alive? _

He remembered.

_Oh, _shit. _Nicky. I kissed Nicky..._

Then the rest fell into place and, in spite of the pain, his eyes shot wide open_._

_...after _he_ kissed_ me.

As the shock of that memory rebooted his brain, Nick came stumbling in, his eyes squinty red slits.

Jeff watched as his silent―and normally _very_ modest―friend walked up and joined him at the toilet. Nick just pulled down his sweatpants _(and those "lucky"_ Star Wars _boxers_) and took a very long―and_ very LOUD―_leak. Not too awkward. Jeff tried hard not to stare.

Or freak out.

The rest of Saturday morning was a painful haze. Hardly anyone went down for breakfast. When it came time to leave the hotel, Jeff still felt like shit. In the elevator, Cam turned to him and smirked that he was "really rockin' the whole 'blond-zombie-having-a-bad-hair-day' look".

Jeff responded with a simple-but-effective whack to the back of Cam's head. _Rock_ that, _hangover boy._

On the ride to Westerville, he and Nick sat alone in the back of the bus. Jeff hoped they would talk about the...kiss. He shook his head at the memory. He and Nick had made out for what had to be like twenty minutes, Ethan had said. Certainly longer than the kiss Shane had given Blaine. _Way_ longer than any kiss between two drunk friends should have lasted. It didn't make any sense.

Jeff stole a side-glance at Nick, hoping that he would be the one to bring up the subject first. But Nick didn't look up to talking. At all. He'd pulled the hood of his hoodie down over his face as far as it would go and was curled up in his seat; the poor guy looked like he was doing his best not to hurl. Jeff promised himself they'd talk tonight for sure.

After the three-hour ride from Cincinnati, Jeff's stomach wasn't exactly in the best shape either. Arriving at Dalton, the older boys hustled the junior Warblers into the dorms while Ken did some inspired smoothtalking to distract the group that had gathered to greet the victors.

The afternoon light was fading when a smirking Duncan led Jeff and Blaine to their room and unlocked the door. Right before an epic face-plant onto his bed, Jeff's last thoughts were: _Geddup inna li'l bit an' talk t' Nicky..._

Blinding sunlight filled the room when Jeff woke to the sound of Blaine snoring. And the tolling of the chapel chimes.

He fumbled for his cell and swiped the screen: _9:03am - Sunday - February 21__._ They'd just missed the start of chapel. Which meant ten demerits. Shit. He pulled his pillow over his head.

An hour later, the guys were back from Sunday service and Jeff tried to ignore the rising noise out in the hall. But when someone―probably Adam Silverman, the fourth floor's closet emo―started blasting MCR's "Desolation Row", he gave up and finally hauled his ass out of bed. After a long shower, he went looking for Nick_. _He wasn't in his room; his roommate told Jeff that after chapel _(BTW, how'd_ he _manage to make it?)_ Nick had headed down to the track for a run.

_Aw, fuck,_ Jeff stressed. _He only runs laps when he wants to think. _

Nick still wasn't back by lunchtime. Seth and Cam stopped by and, despite his claims of not being hungry, pulled Jeff off his bed to go to the dining hall with them. He tried hard not to think about the kiss _(Nick's lips sliding against his, hand fisting in his hair and―SHUT UP!) _as he pushed his food around on his plate with his fork.

Back at the dorm, Jeff saw the door to 404 was ajar. And since he'd just left Ward in the caf, he knew Nick would be alone. It was time they talked. About the kiss. God knew he'd been thinking about it all morning; Nick obviously had been, too.

He hesitated. Taking a deep breath, Jeff pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Hey."

His back to the door, Nick was sitting on his bed and rummaging around in his footlocker. "What's up?" he asked, focused on finding whatever he was looking for.

_Is he pissed?_ "Um, can we talk?"

"Sure." Nick paused in his movements, but didn't turn to face him.

_Why won't he look at me?_ To stop himself fidgeting, Jeff sat down on the corner of Ward's desk. "About Friday night..."

Nick finally swiveled around; he was holding a cellophane-wrapped toothbrush, his face expressionless. "Yeah?"

"Uh, we kinda like...kissed." _More like made out._ "What _was_ that?"

Nick hesitated before responding, "Whattaya mean? We were drunk." He shrugged. "It's no big deal."

_No big deal. No. Big. Deal. _Nick wasn't mad. Jeff should've been relieved, but he felt a twinge in his gut. Nick's words had...hurt. Without thinking, he blurted, "Well, _you_ kinda got into it," sounding a little defensive.

Another pause. "Yeah, well...you're actually a pretty good kisser," Nick admitted, then chuckled, "For a jerk."

_Yeah, Sterling, a big STUPID jerk. _"Uh-huh," Jeff tried to smile. "So were you. For a big dork."

"Thanks, I guess." Nick looked down into the footlocker again. "It didn't mean anything. Like the song says: _'Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-al-co-hol'," _he sang.

_Yeah. Right. No big deal._

Slamming the lid closed, Nick changed the subject. "So, we're going into town later, right?"

"Um, maybe. I got...stuff I gotta do first." Jeff evaded, jumping to his feet. "See ya." Before Nick could say anything, he was out the door and walking swiftly down the hall. Now _he_ needed to think. Nick was totally okay with what had happened. Leaving Jeff to wonder why _he_ felt even worse than before.

Leaving the dorm, he started wandering around campus. It was a blustery February day and he jammed his hands deep in his coat pockets. With each frustrated breath, he blew out a plume of frozen air. _"No big deal," Nick said. "We were drunk. It didn't mean anything."_ The more Jeff thought about it, the more upset he got. And the funny thing was he couldn't figure out why he was upset.

Eventually, Jeff found himself heading down the hill toward South Pond and the athletic center. In spite of the wind biting his cheeks, he sat down on a bench across from the field house's main entrance. This one was inscribed with _"Claritas"―_clarity.

_Ha ha,_ _very funny. _

The marble bench was freezing and when the chill crept into his thighs and ass, he ignored it. With his hands clasped between his knees, he sat staring at the pond's wind-rippled surface, twiddling his thumbs. Nick's voice reverberated in his head: _It didn't mean anything...no big deal...it didn't mean anything..._

Maybe it _didn't_ mean anything.

To Nick.

He jumped when someone touched his shoulder.

It was Blaine. He always skipped lunch Sundays to get in some solitary gym time. He sat down beside Jeff, flushed and obviously riding a post-workout high. "Hey. How's it goin'?"

He was way too chipper to deal with right now. "Dude, why so cheerful?" Jeff grumped.

"Friday night." Blaine grinned. "I can't stop thinking about it. It was _epic._ My first kiss was with _Shane Hardy!"_ He held his fist out.

Jeff listlessly bumped it in return. "Congrats."

"But, hey, what about you and Nick?" Blaine smirked, knocking shoulders with Jeff. "That kiss was _hot!_ I mean, it..." He trailed off when he finally noticed Jeff's stony expression. "What's wrong?"

_Step off, buddy. _"Nothin'."

"It doesn't sound like nothing," Blaine ventured.

"It...it's stupid." Jeff took a deep breath. "I just thought"―_don't say it, Jeffy―_"that when Nick and I kissed"―_don't say it don't say it don't say it_―"there mighta been...somethin' there." _See how friggin' stupid you sound? _"Crazy, right?"

Jeff looked over at Blaine. Who wasn't looking at him like he was stupid. Or crazy. "No." His eyes were compassionate as he placed his gloved hand on Jeff's arm. "No, it's not."

It took a while, but Blaine eventually pulled it out of him. Everything that'd been going on over the past few months. Everything he'd been ignoring...the looks...the touches...the constant could-be-interpreted-as-flirty bantering...the warm fluttery feeling that started in his stomach whenever he looked at Nick. And that pain in his gut when Nick had told him the kiss was "no big deal".

By the time he'd finished, Jeff couldn't believe it―he'd pretty much described a _crush._ But that was crazy. He couldn't be crushing on Nick.

Could he?

Because when they'd kissed...it felt like something _special._

But that still didn't explain Nick kissing him _first. _A real honest-to-shit kiss. And then the look they'd traded_. _Like he'd liked it_―_a lot.

At least that's what it had seemed like then. Now Jeff wondered what the hell he'd been thinking. Nick was his best friend―his _straight_ best friend. Just because he'd kissed him didn't mean there was anything there. (Even though Nick had sure_ looked_ like there was.)

Why was he even worrying about it? Nick had_ certainly_ shut him down with that huge reality check: _"No big deal,"_ Nick had said. _"Blame it on the alcohol," _he'd joked_._ And he was right. They'd both been totally shit-faced; Nick probably would've Frenched with anyone at that point.

Blaine drew him out of his thoughts by asking, "So what happens now?"

_Whattaya mean, what happens now?_ "Nothin'."

That earned him a quirked eyebrow. "What?"

Jeff let out a heavy sigh. "I was wrong. At least about him."

Now Blaine was giving him a strange look. Almost like he didn't believe him. (Or knew something different?) "Are you sure? Did you talk to him?"

_I tried._ "Yeah, we talked. He blew it off, said it happened because we were drunk. Period. What was I supposed to say after that?"_ Hey, best friend, it turns out I may have a thing for you―and thought you might be into me, too. Yeah, right..._

"Don't you think he'd want to know how _you_ feel?" Blaine pressed.

_"I_ don't even know how I feel, Blaine." Jeff shook his head. "No, Nicky's the best, but...if I get all up in his face with this, it'll ruin everything, I know it." He let out a long, sad sigh. "Uh-uh. I'm not gonna risk losing my best friend. Over somethin' stupid that _he_ doesn't think meant anything anyway? No way," he scoffed.

Blaine eyed him skeptically. "So you're just gonna pretend like it didn't happen?"

"What else? As far as _he's_ concerned, nothin' did," Jeff snapped.

"And what about _you?_ Can you just act like nothing's changed?"

Jeff felt his eyes burning. "I dunno, but I don't have much choice, do I? I'll get over it." He rubbed away his unshed tears. "Let's just drop this, okay?"

Blaine opened his mouth to say something, but shut it like he'd thought better.

Puzzled by Blaine's weirdness―w_hat's _up_ with him today?―_Jeff stood and started walking away. Blaine followed, pulling his red ski hat down over his head; when he caught up, he threw a sympathetic arm around Jeff's shoulders. They were halfway up the hill when both their phones went off. Jeff pulled his out and read the text:

_Nicky (Sun. 2:42pm): u guys missed the van _:P - ___up 4 some pizza? - at the centre - meet me by fountain _:)

Jeff's stomach tensed up. He looked over at Blaine, who was staring at the same message on his own cell.

"Time to act like nothing's changed," he said, giving Jeff an ironic look.

Jeff snorted. "Yeah."

He was so screwed...

* * *

As soon as Jeff left his room, Nick let out a heavy sigh.

He felt like crap. As soon as he'd heard Jeff come in, Nick had _known_ what he'd wanted to talk about. That's why he'd just sat there facing away from him, chewing his lower lip while pretending to look for the new toothbrush he'd already found. Because he wasn't ready to have that conversation. Not now―and maybe not _ever._

He was too afraid of where it could lead.

From the tone of Jeff's voice, he'd known Jeff was upset. Of _course_ he was; why _wouldn't_ he be upset? It wasn't every day your best friend tried to suck your face off.

So before Jeff could ask him that terrifying question―_Why?―_Nick had turned, faced him―and shut him down.

It was better than admitting he'd kissed Jeff because he'd...wanted to.

He had sat and stewed over _that_ realization all through Sunday service, ignoring the chaplain's generic sermon. (He hadn't even realized it was over until Andy started nudging him to get up out of the pew.) He'd been grateful Jeff had skipped; he wasn't ready to see him yet.

Nick had wanted time alone to think. He'd gone down to the field house, changed and hit the track. He ran lap after lap (losing count somewhere during his seventh mile) trying to work out what the hell was going on in his head. And may have been going on for _months_ he slowly came to realize. All those times he'd caught himself zoning...he'd been looking at Jeff. Or thinking about Jeff. Like he would think about a gir―

_NO!_ That thought had brought him to a halt. Jeff was his _best friend._ They'd grown up together. Like brothers.

_But guys shouldn't feel like kissing their brothers._

No. The kiss had been caused by the alcohol. Definitely. And the rest? Hormones.

Over four hundred teenage boys boarded at Dalton Academy. They were effectively isolated on campus with little to no contact with girls. A good number of the boys were straight. So, when faced with the absence of the opposite sex, it was only natural that these straight boys might start directing their raging teenage hormones at each other, right?

Right. And what did you expect? Teenage boys were always horny; they could get turned on watching paint dry. If it weren't for the uniform blazers, Nick could only imagine how many boners he'd see every day―_what the hell, Duval?! Why are you even_ _thinking about _that?

No. He and Jeff had a bromance_. _Just like Wes and David_. _That's _all._ The booze had confused things. That's_ why you felt what you felt when you were kissing Jeff...with his hands in your hair and his tongue doing that thing that―_

"Hey, Duval!"

He jumped, jolted (thankfully) out of his thoughts by a cheerful voice. Evan Farmer from down the hall in 412 was poking his head though the half-open door. He'd seen Nick's name on the sign-out sheet, he said, and just wanted to remind him the van to town was leaving in five minutes.

Nick went out into the hall and saw Jeff and Blaine's door was closed; when he knocked, no one answered. Jeff wasn't waiting in the van, so he ducked back into the dorm and checked the bathroom, the kitchenette and the ground-floor lounge. Nothing. He automatically pulled out his phone to text him_―_then hesitated. _Well...he_ did _say "maybe", _he remembered and slipped it back in his pocket.

During the short ride to Westerville, Evan sat with Nick and talked about his girlfriend the whole time. Nick nodded, barely listening while staring out the window. It just felt _weird,_ Jeff not being there.

The van dropped them at Westerville Centre, a large outdoor shopping plaza. With all the gingerbread fretwork, old-fashioned lamp posts and wrought-iron benches, it reminded Nick of Main Street USA at Disney World minus the heavy crowds of spastic kids. It was practically empty today; the cold weather was no doubt keeping everyone indoors.

The Dalton boys went their separate ways. Alone, Nick walked through the central plaza, past the turned-off-for-the-winter fountain and down one of the side passageways. His destination was the last store on the right: Time Warp Comics and Games. After paying for his reserved order (a small one this week: just the latest issue of_ Doctor Who Magazine), _he browsed. But he soon realized it wasn't any fun without Jeff_―_who usually tried to embarrass him by asking things like "How does Wolverine jack off?" and making lewd comments about the superheroes' bodies.

He pulled out his cell. This wasn't right; Jeff was still his best friend. If things were ever going to be normal again, Nick knew he had to get past this. He called up the keypad and started thumbing a text to Jeff_―and_ Blaine, who'd keep things from getting awkward.

_Me (Sun. 14:42): u guys missed the van_ :P _- up 4 some pizza? - at the centre - meet me by fountain_ :)

Biting his lip, he pressed "send", then stood there waiting. About a minute later his phone vibrated.

_Jeff (Sun. 14:44): k - b ther in 15 - blaine 2_

_Good. _Nick let out a deep breath_―_which he didn't even realize he'd been holding_―_and went back to perusing the racks. His started flipping through the new _Avengers_ graphic novel...but with no one hovering over his shoulder and goofing about the "size of Thor's mighty hammer," Nick soon gave up and left.

Stepping outside, Nick plugged in his ear buds into his cell and selected a song: Bon Jovi's "Blood On Blood" (the more mellow acoustic version). He sat on a nearby bench.

"I can still remember  
When I was just a kid  
How your friends were your friends forever  
And what you said was what you did."

Losing himself in the song, he started flipping through the picture file in his phone. Of course, most of the shots were of Jeff. Jeff giving the one-finger salute, Jeff sticking his tongue out. (The jerk almost always mugged for the camera or did _something_ to ruin the picture.)

"Me and Danny and Bobby  
We cut each other's hands  
And held tight to a promise  
Only brothers understand."

Nick absently rubbed at the palm of his right hand; he remembered that night at the lake he and Jeff had become blood brothers. _(God, the _R'uustai _ritual. __Dork.)_

"But we were so young _(so young)_  
One for all and all for one _(all for one)_  
Just as sure as the river's gonna run."

Nick finally found a nice one. He and Jeff, dressed in tee-shirts and shorts, in the residential quad at Dalton. This year's Labor Day cookout. They were smiling, arms around each others shoulders and Jeff toasting the camera with a hot dog.

"Blood on blood  
One on one  
Still be standing  
When all was said and done."

Nick smiled, remembering what a great time they'd had. He passed more Jeff-ruined pictures then came to some Blaine had taken on Friday at Regionals. He and Jeff in the lobby of the Aronoff Center, smiling and standing shoulder to shoulder in their Dalton uniforms. The next had been snapped a minute later when they were wearing their Ray-Bans and posing back-to-back like two James Bonds, their fingers in gun-configuration.

"Blood on blood  
One on one  
And I'll be there for you  
'Til Kingdom come  
'Cause we were blood on blood..."

There was one picture left. Nick swiped the screen―and tensed up when it slid into view.

He and Jeff making out. Mouths mashed together. Fingers tangled in each others hair. Some wiseass must've grabbed his phone during the party. _Flint? No. _Cam._ Definitely Cam._

Nick stared at it, mesmerized, thoughts whirling. His thumb was poised over the "delete" button; just one touch and it would be gone. And everything could go back to the way it was.

Yeah. Right. He wished it was really that eas―

The ear buds were suddenly ripped out of his ears.

_What the hell?! _Nick looked up. Some random boy hovered over him, staring down with dead eyes that peered out from under a tangle of blond hair. His ear buds dangled in the guy's hand.

_Who's this dick?_ "What's _your_ problem?" Nick asked irritably.

The boy ignored him. "Look here," he sneered over Nick's head while painfully poking his forefinger into Nick's breastbone___―_bulls-eying the Dalton Academy crest on his sweatshirt. "We got us a little Dalton rich boy here." Then he looked Nick square in the eye. "Got any spare change for a poor townie, fag?" He was a few years older and _definitely_ bigger than Nick.

Before Nick could react, a hand reached over his shoulder from behind and snatched the phone right out of his grasp.

_Hey!_ Nick twisted around; there was another kid right behind him, a burly, no-necked linebacker type. He looked at Nick's Droid and leered. _"'Fag' _is right, Chris. Here's a picture of him, mackin' on his boyfriend." He tossed it to his friend. "Ain't it sweet?"

_Shit._ Nick's stomach clenched. He moved to stand, but suddenly the burly kid's hands were pressing down on his shoulders, pushing him back down.

"Get off me, asshole!" Nick struggled, but it was no good; the guy's hands were like twin vices.

"'Asshole'?" The boy named Chris looked at him with a dangerous smirk; the sick feeling in the pit of Nick's stomach grew. "Y'know, we're kinda tired of you fairies from 'Gay Hogwarts' flittin' around our town. Here's a message to take back to your friends, homo," he said and yanked Nick up off the bench by the front of his coat...

* * *

"Where could he be?" Blaine wondered.

After receiving Nick's text, Jeff and Blaine had driven the short distance to town. A result of being held back a year after his assault, Blaine was the only freshman at Dalton Academy with driving privileges. He'd gotten his driver's license back in November when he'd turned sixteen. Two weeks after his birthday, a red 2010 Jaguar XK convertible had been delivered to Dalton by a dealer in Columbus. A late birthday present from his appearance-obsessed absentee parents.

Jeff looked around the deserted courtyard. No Nick. _Where the hell is he? _He double-checked Nick's text: _at the centre - meet me by fountain. _

"I dunno," he answered. "That comic-book store of his is down that way." He fired off a quick text: _wher r u?_

It was late afternoon; between that and the cold, the place was deserted. Jeff stared at his phone, waiting for a reply. A vague worried feeling started in his gut―or as Nick would say, his spider-sense was tingling―

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blaine start waving at someone. _Nick?_ He whipped his head around to see. No, it was just Shane, coming out of the pizza place with a couple of seniors. Dammit. Shane waved back and started walking toward them, shouting a greeting.

_Come _on,_ man._ Jeff dialed Nick. The phone rang. And rang.

He heard the faint sound of music playing:

"I am, I am, I am Superman  
And I know what's happening."

R.E.M.'s "Superman". A chill prickled down Jeff's spine.

"Superman" was the ringtone for _his _number on Nick's phone.

Ignoring Blaine's puzzled gaze, Jeff began walking in the direction of the music.

"I am, I am, I am Superman  
And I can do anything..."

When Nick's voicemail picked up, the ringtone stopped. Jeff ended the call and re-dialed, impatiently waiting for the song to play again. It did and, with Blaine following, the tinny melody led him toward Time Warp Comics.

Then he saw it. Nick's Droid. Lying on the ground under a bench.

Jeff knelt and picked it up. Through the cracks crazing the screen, he could make out a picture of his own face.

He tensed when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Blaine's. "Jeff," he said uncertainly, pointing. To a plastic bag on the seat with a _Doctor Who_ magazine half-hanging out.

___What the hell?_ Jeff felt his chest tighten. Close to panic, he looked around. There was no sign of Nick. _Any_where.

Shane cocked his head like he'd heard something; he began walking toward the service alley at the end of the passageway_. _Then Jeff heard it, too. Faint but clear in the crisp winter air.

Scuffling feet. A cry of pain. Cruel laughter.

Jeff froze. He'd heard those sounds plenty of times―up close―back in junior high. After he'd come out.

He broke out in a cold sweat as his brain started connecting the dots because Nick was missing and his phone was smashed and, _oh_ _God, those fucking_ sounds―_no, no, no no NO! _He started running, some sixth sense telling him what he was going to find even before he rounded the corner. He was charging past Shane just as the older boy saw something and shouted,_ "Hey!"_

Nick was in that narrow service alley.

His arms pinned behind him by some thick-necked fucker.

Being punched in the ribs by a skater punk.

The last thing Jeff saw was the blood streaming from Nick's nose before he _lost_ it___―_

_"YOU FUCKIN' SONUVABITCH!"_ he screamed as he hurled himself at the puncher, tackled him to the ground and started whaling on his face.

As Blaine and the others came running up, the other boy shoved Nick directly at them while tripping him at the same time. Already dazed, Nick stumbled and fell___―_his head hitting a bicycle rack on the way down.

After hearing the sickening sound that accompanied Nick's skull smacking solid metal, Jeff paused for one second___―_before redoubling his effort to smash his fucking guy's fucking face to a fucking pulp. _You mother!__―_punch___―_fucking!_―_punch___―asshole!_

The other kid hesitated, too___―_long enough for Shane to land one quick jab___―_before sprinting away. Shane's friends (John and Scott Crater, the identical twin co-captains of Dalton's varsity wrestling team) took off in pursuit.

Jeff felt someone grab him from behind, pinning his arms down against his sides. "Jeff, _stop it!_ You're gonna kill him!" Blaine shouted in his ear as he pulled him off the bloody-faced punk. As Jeff struggled wildly, the guy climbed to his feet and ran off.

_Nicky. _

Jeff threw off Blaine's grasp, ran and fell to his knees next to Nick. "Nicky? Nicky, you okay?" he asked frantically. _Oh, God, oh God OH GOD. _Nick was flat on his back. His face was cut and bleeding and_―_Jeff's breath hitched when he saw it_―_a huge ugly bruise was already forming on his temple.

Eyelids fluttering, Nick moved sluggishly. "Mm okay," he muttered. He started to prop himself up with his elbows, but before he got even a little way up, he looked like he was going to pass out. Giving up, he tried rolling onto his side.

Hearing someone talking, Jeff looked up; Shane was kneeling on Nick's other side and speaking urgently into his cell. "Right. He's sorta conscious. No. No, he's moving. Tryin' to sit up. Yeah, okay." After listening, he put his hand on Nick's shoulder and firmly but gently rolled him back. "Stay still, little guy. Let's just wait for the ambulance, 'kay?"

While Shane continued talking with the 9-1-1 operator, Jeff tried to hold himself together. _It's all my fault. It wouldn'ta happened if I'd just fuckin' been here. _He managed to sound calm as he said, "Nicky, you're gonna be okay. Shane called for help. They're on their way." His heart was pounding in his chest but he kept talking. "Hey, remember that time we jumped out of the treehouse and got to ride in the ambulance?"

"Yeh, playin' Superman," Nick replied thickly as one side of his mouth crooked up. "Doan wurry, y' jerk."

With tears blurring his vision, Jeff smiled, "Yeah, right." The smile faltered when Nick's eyes drooped closed and didn't reopen. "C'mon, Nicky, open your eyes. You hear me? Open 'em, you gotta stay with me," he urged.

Nick didn't respond.

_Oh, God. _

Jeff barely heard Shane relaying this latest development as his heart raced even faster. _This isn't happening this isn't happening this isn't happening__._ The lump in his throat felt like it was choking him._C'mon, you big dork, say something please just open your eyes you gotta be okay__―__JESUS CHRIST! WHERE'S THAT FUCKING AMBULANCE?! _

Blaine started rubbing his back and he realized he'd shouted that last part out loud.

Jeff took Nick's hand and squeezed it. When he felt Nick's fingers twitch and weakly squeeze back, he started breathing again.

They stayed that way until some woman in a uniform separated their grip, grasped Jeff by the shoulders and guided him away to tend to his bruised and battered hands...

* * *

Jeff really hated hospitals. For the second time in two years, he found himself in an emergency room. But, in a messed up, ass-backward sense of _déjà vu,_ this time he was the one sitting in the bedside chair while a battered Nick lay in the bed.

Blaine, Shane and the Crater twins had already given their statements to the Westerville police and stopped in to see Nick before heading back to the school. Jeff had eagerly told the cops everything he knew. Especially that he'd tried to fuck the one guy up worse than_ he'd_ fucked up Nick. ("Should make him a lot easier to find," he'd insisted with a grim smile.)

Besides giving Nick a concussion, those assholes had banged up his face, fractured two of his ribs and sprung the cartilage between two others. He was being held overnight for observation until tomorrow afternoon.

Jeff was staying the night, too. With a little help from the guys, he'd managed to convince the EMTs and the hospital staff he was Nick's brother. Nick's parents were out of the country and couldn't make it here until late tomorrow. No _way_ was he leaving. Even if the headmaster himself tried to take him back to Dalton. Nick had done the same for him.

But it wasn't _only_ because of that_..._

The pain medication made Nick drowsy and he kept nodding off. As a precaution, a nurse would come in every hour and make sure he could be woken; though Jeff knew it was necessary, it was really getting on his nerves. _Jeez, I wish they'd just leave the poor guy alone._

It was going to be a long night, so Jeff went to get something to eat. Just his luck, the cafeteria was closed. He ended up raiding some crappy vending machines for supplies. First off, he made sure he got plenty of Plain M&Ms for Nick; the so-called dinner they'd given him made the food at Dalton look like_ haute cuisine._

Returning to the room, Jeff found Nick sound asleep. He stirred but didn't wake up when Jeff dumped his double armload of junk food on the overbed table. Grabbing the TV remote, Jeff climbed up onto the bed, settled in next to Nick and tore open a mini-bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.

He channel-surfed until he came across a good _Friends_ rerun. The one with the prom video. Cool. He'd come in right at the best part___―_the gang was watching the video and ragging on Monica about her weight back in high school. She defended herself by whining that the camera added ten pounds. Then Chandler nailed her with one of Jeff's favorite zingers of all time:_ "So _how many_ cameras are actually _on_ you?"_

Any other time, he would've been laughing his ass off. But this time he wasn't even paying attention.

Nick had shifted in his sleep and was currently curled up against him. Jeff wasn't aware of anything but the weight of Nick's head on his chest and the faint-but-steady movement of his body as he breathed.

He was feeling protective, but was afraid putting an arm around Nick's shoulder would cause him pain; instead, Jeff took his hand and gently interlaced their fingers. Looking down at that peacefully sleeping face, the now-familiar fluttery warmth flooded through him. Even with a black eye, scraped jaw, all those bruises and white gauze wrapping his forehead, he still thought Nick was...beautiful.

He'd gone to town hoping to come to terms with his feelings. Ironically, seeing Nick being beaten up by those guys had just showed Jeff they were even stronger than he'd thought.

He sighed. It didn't make any difference._ You're best friends,_ Jeff told himself. _That's all you are. Or ever _can_ be._ _Best friends. Period._

He watched the TV as Rachel, all teary-eyed after finding out Ross had been ready to take her to her prom when she thought she'd been stood-up, crossed the room and kissed him hard on the mouth. The studio audience went berserk.

Responding to the noise, Nick made a little humming sound and nestled even closer into Jeff's side.

Closing his eyes, Jeff leaned back into the pillow and whispered, "I get it that we're only friends, Nicky, but I just want you to know somethin'..." He paused, swallowing hard.

"It _was_ a big deal..."

* * *

_**Next up: Summer vacation and more Niff angst...**_

_**A/N: **I know, I know...I promised you fight club and I didn't deliver; the story just took me in a different direction. It'll be there when we go back to Dalton. Promise._

_Heartfelt thanks to **shanehardy**, a great friend and great writer who gave me a lot of guidance and tough love to get through this one. It's finally posted, so you can stop kicking me in the ass. Enjoy your debut as a Dalton Academy Warbler!_

_The chapter title "Wild In The Streets" comes from the Bon Jovi song of the same name, released on their seminal 1986 album _Slippery When Wet. _(And I couldn't help putting in the Duran Duran mash-up; it's one of my top three favorite Glee songs.)_

_And for those readers who might want to know what happened after Shane and Duncan adjourned to the other room, I've written a fic that shows just that. Just look under my stories for_ Lay Your Hands on Me._ Be warned. It's...graphic (i.e. M-rated)._

_Thanks for reading! Thoughts and feelings? Please review._


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